Infected
by SleepyWriter08
Summary: Quinn was separated from Rachel and Beth over ten years ago when the world that she knew came to a screeching halt. How hard will she fight to get back to the ones she loves?
1. Just Keep Running

_**A/N: I've been having a little difficulty with my other fanfic Let Me Sing to You Tonight and I haven't been enthused or inspired enough to finish the next chapter. This is something that I've had rattling around my brain for a while. I don't have an exact idea of how many chapters this will be but it should be under ten. I'd love feedback because if the interest isn't there, I tend to scrap WiPs. **_

_**Slight background- This is Faberry though the first two-three chapters are more Quinn-centric. This is my first time taking on an action story so be wary that it might not be amazing. Lastly, this is a zombie fic that's not really a zombie fic. These aren't people coming back from the dead. These are Infecteds - people whose minds have degraded to where they're essentially running on basic instincts. **_

_**Any other facts? Early humans did indeed resort to cannibalism. Sharks are distantly related to humans. Without a superego and an ego to control humans, we'd essentially be just like the Infected. Ask as many questions as you'd like and I promise to answer. If you're an anon, please leave a way for me to contact you otherwise I'll just add a short brief response to you at the end of the next chapter.**  
_

_**Hope you enjoy! **_

* * *

_It was a scream that woke her. Quinn could hear the panicked yelling of the people several rooms over, her heart speeding up as she remembered where she was and why she was there. _

_She reached over and pulled at wires connecting her to several machines, barely registering the sharp pain in her side as she struggled to her feet. Her eyes were wide, taking in the pandemonium in the hallway, but all thoughts gave way to a single one. _

_**Beth**__. _

_She had no idea what was happening but the snippets – the small phrase she'd catch as a nurse ran past her room, the wails of pained unfortunate souls in the background. Shaking her head, she moved forward to where her clothes had been tucked away in a neatly prepared diaper bag._

_It was to be a routine hospital visit. Quinn would come in, have a baby, and leave. Now, the blonde just needed to find her daughter and get out. She didn't have the time to worry about exactly what was going on, her mind weighted with much more important concerns. _

_Her jeans were on in less than twenty seconds, her shirt in less than ten. Quinn shoved the remnants of her belongings into a backpack, her eyes lingering for just half a second on a small box already in there, before pulling on a pair of sneakers and standing up to leave. _

_She wasn't sure where Beth was. She wasn't even sure where in the building she herself was. Her eyes darted to the door as a frantic young nurse hurried past, stopping for just a second to address the blonde. Her eyes held terror but as they raked over the ready backpack and the dressed blonde; she picked up the clipboard hanging by the door and answered Quinn's prayers with just a few words. "She's in the nursery on the second floor. Take the stairs. The elevators have been shut down." _

_Quinn holstered the backpack, taking a deep breath and moved through the doorway._

* * *

_Suddenly, she's running through the forest, her hand firmly clasped around Rachel's who is gripping Beth to her chest with her free hand as if her life depended on it._

_It had been a year since the escape from the hospital. Rachel had met Quinn halfway with a swaddled newborn in her arms, and with a brief kiss and a sigh of relief, the trio had fled. _

"_**Hold on to Beth and just keep running, Rach, no matter what." **_

_Quinn shakes her head, bringing herself back to the present, and grunts out to the brunette by her side. "Faster, Rachel. We've got to move faster."_

_They're out of breath but the constant noise trailing behind them is enough to make sure they don't pause for even a second. _

_No one sees the slightly raised branch protruding from the earth and Quinn takes the fall hard, groaning in pain. She hardly registers Rachel's scream when suddenly, there's a pressure on top of the blonde and she's fighting off a frenzied man twice her size. _

_She brings her knee up, connecting it with the tender walls of his stomach, shoving him off as another frontrunner from the amassing crowd rushes past her. _

"_Rachel!" _

_The blonde struggles to her feet, gripping tightly to the heavy piece of metal she had strapped to her thigh. The gunshot is deafening but she doesn't flinch._

_Rolling her shoulders back in a slow stretch, Quinn takes a deep breath and turns to the crowd alone, a pained scream sounding off in the forest before all that can be heard is silence._

* * *

Hazel eyes shot open, nimble delicate fingers long since tainted with dirt and blood tightly fisting the ragged sheet she lay on. A low shuddering breath was the only indication of the blonde's terror as she tried to regain her composure.

"It's been 10 years, Fabray. When are you going to get over this?" Quinn muttered, scrubbing her face harshly before raking an unsteady hand through her dirtied locks.

Sighing, the blonde stood and moved to exit her tent, but not before she holstered the small gun that she had kept with her at all times. Some preferred rifles; others, intricate designs and attachments.

Quinn Fabray didn't. She was traditional and her Glock demonstrated that. She wasn't one for silencers either. She liked the sound of the jolting crack in the air but moreover, she liked that it shook her bones every time and reminded her that she was still alive…still fighting.

"Fabray, they caught another one. They're preparing for the tests and they want you over at the aquarium ASAP."

The blonde gave the man a short nod, her eyes closing and her lungs filling with air, before she exhaled slowly and deliberately, reluctantly making her way over to the tank.

"Jesus Christ, Evans!" Quinn muttered, as she neared the large aquarium that had been set up at the edge of the camp, a large tiger shark circling the edges.

The man atop of the ladder grinned sheepishly down at her, brushing his long hair out of his face. "Beggars can't be choosers, Quinn. We got this bad boy from the Columbus aquarium."

She watched as he climbed down, noting how he'd aged throughout the years. Sam Evans had been a love in her life once, but their relationship had changed. Now, he was simply the only one she could call family anymore. And she wasn't the only one Sam had stood by. Sam had seen the deterioration of his siblings. He had been there step-by-step through all of the stages of the infection, and Quinn had been there when their cases were flagged for the Containment Team.

"Fabray! Get out of your head and update me on your plan!" Wilson barked, shouldering the blonde woman hard as he stalked over to the tank.

Expelling an angry sigh, Quinn moved over to stand next to the Commander of the C.T. and graciously accepted the tattered binder from Sam with a small smile. "Well, since you asked so nicely, as you know we've harvested a strain of the infection ourselves and we're looking to infect and then successfully cure a shark with one of the cocktails that we've been working on. We feel like-"

"Shorten this, Fabray. I've heard all this before and frankly, I've got more important things to do than hear about how the primitive mind of humanity was a distant sister to fucking Jaws over there."

"Cousin, Wilson. And if I'm to be as frank as you are, killing off anyone who so much as gets a fever in the camp doesn't strike me as more important." Quinn snapped, brushing past the taller man. "I'll go ahead and dumb this down for you. We're going to make that shark in there angrier than your mama must have been with your father when she got a good look at you, and then we're going to cure it. Hopefully, before you murder anyone else in the name of '_containment'_."

Quinn only thinly disguised her contempt then moved to the small table, running over the injections and pulling out a sickly pink one when she found herself suddenly pressed up against the wall of the tank. "Listen to me, and listen closely. The only reason you can get away with talking like that is because inside your pretty little head is a way to fix this whole fucking thing. But you stay in your damn place or I will make sure that you find yourself outside the walls of this fucking place without me to-"

Wilson stopped suddenly, his icy blue eyes widening just fractionally as he stepped back with the muzzle of a recently polished Glock pressed against his crotch. Quinn smirked, thoroughly enjoying the fear in the man's eyes that he couldn't hide. "I don't need you, Wilson. Not to protect me or to put me in my place. The only reason, I haven't found a way to get rid of you is because I'm not the lowlife you are and I know, believe me, Wilson, _I KNOW_, that you just pray every night for this to be over so you can stop pretending not to be scared shitless by compensating for that tiny little thing you call a dick between your legs with that machine gun you lug around everywhere." Accentuating her point with a small jab of her gun, Quinn turned on her heel and returned to prepping the injections for their experiment.

The blonde, along with her small but very capable team, had deduced that the infection had been the result of some unfortunate genetic coincidence and its exact whereabouts undetermined as of yet. Quinn had scrapped that investigation almost immediately after being placed in charge of the production. _'Fix it first, figure out where the fuck it came from later,'_ she always said. After close examination, a list of symptoms had been drawn up and over time, stages separated, and durations for each mapped out. By some odd stroke of luck, they had been able to procure a working MRI scanner and using one of the scrapped bodies on the floor, Quinn was able to determine the end result of the infection.

Somehow, it destroyed the more complex areas of the human brain, reducing a human to its earliest stages. The conclusion, however shocking, had been the missing piece to understanding what was going on. A member of Quinn's team had been working on a dissertation on cannibalism, and explained how early humans had actually resorted to killing and eating each other when food was scarce.

"_Look around, you guys. There's no more wild game roaming around where we can kill it. This disease takes you right down to the basics. You eat, you shit, you sleep. Right now? We're the easiest things to catch and eat," he explained, the severity of their situation becoming even more terrifying. _

The realization had shook the camp to the core but it had taken just a few hours before Quinn had assembled a plan. With the knowledge that sharks were distant cousins to humans, the blonde set to work on developing a strain of the virus herself and began infecting the sharks that Sam and his team were able to catch. The scarceness of the animals was a weight on Quinn's shoulders and she had to be very careful with each animal she tested.

The first injection, containing the virus, managed to perpetually anger the sharks, regardless of species, driving it to the edge. The large beast would leap out of the makeshift tank, jaws snapping, eyes wide and focused solely on the people surrounding it. Feeding the shark became an even more feared job and Quinn had seen many limbs and lives lost to the circling monsters.

Quinn initially worked beneath a doctor who had been rescued from Ohio State University. He had been a kind old man who went out of his way to teach the blonde everything he knew. It had saddened her greatly when he contracted the virus and the containment team sprung into action. However, with his death, Quinn was catapulted into the head position and that had been where she had worked since then. She had successfully managed to pull together something that would quell the symptoms temporarily, keeping the next stage and the trigger-happy members of the containment team at bay.

This tiger shark would be the first to receive what she hoped was the cure. She had been so close with the last time. The injection seemed to rid the individual of the virus completely, but Quinn had not foreseen the weakness the antivirus had in comparison to the infected body's attack. The antivirus had seemed to properly do its job, the lemon shark's temperament becoming as docile as it had been when initially brought to camp. She had been able to enter the tank without any threat and the camp had cheered as Wilson and the containment team gave the treatment to each of the infected people, despite Quinn's protests.

It wasn't until the next day when a young man, perhaps nineteen or twenty, went to feed the shark that Quinn realized something was off. The lemon shark stopped mid-circle, rushing to where the man was standing. The blonde's warning died in her throat, her mouth agape in horror as the screams sounded off all around her. The thrashing of the water soon calmed until the only remnants of what had just occurred was the dark red water and a sole fin circling the tank relentlessly.

She had turned, bolting in the direction of the quarantine tent. The gunshots ringing out stopped her in her tracks, the tears springing to her eyes as the infection broke out inside camp for the first time in years. The number of deaths had been so high, Quinn had been unable to think of anything else for weeks after.

Shaking her head, the pale girl tried hard to forget the memories of failed experiments and stepped forward with the virus. She handed it to Sam who expertly injected the shark with ease, leaping out of the tank as the shark thrashed around in pain.

He stood next to Quinn, slinging an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in for a side hug. A wild flick of the tail produced a cracking sound and the blonde duo grimaced simultaneously.

"I'll grab Adam and we'll go see if we can find something to fix up that tank before it bursts." Sam offered but Quinn shook her head, nudging the blonde man gently.

"You just got back from a scavenging trip. I'll find a few other guys to head out for the supplies while you rest." Quinn ordered, pointing in the direction of two men, leaning up against the gate. "Jacobs and Morgan, grab some fuel from the cabin and the keys for the quads. You guys are up for scavenging." Turning back to Sam, the blonde offered a smirk. "You've been replaced, Evans. Now grab some sleep before you drop from sheer exhaustion."

Sam grinned fondly at the woman, turning towards his tent but calling back to her over his shoulder. "So caring, Quinn. It's a wonder why Wilson doesn't like you."

The pale woman fought the smile making its way to her face, rolling her eyes before heading back to work.

* * *

It began as a simple argument.

Quinn had been resting against a tree nearby the tank when shouting had caught her attention. She groaned internally, slowly rising to her feet and stretching her arms above her head. Letting out a silent yawn, the lithe woman moved towards the source of the noise languidly, in no rush to intervene.

It was the clatter of glass that set a sense of urgency aflame. She was running full speed towards the overturned table when a low cry of pain reached her. The sight that awaited her sent chills down her spine. The small table, laden with glass vials full to the brim with viruses, possible treatments, and a ready injection of the virus straight, was overturned, shattered glass on the floor. Wilson lay propped up against the tank, a small needle lodged in his side, the remnants of pink liquid draining into his system. She turned to look at Sam, who stood shocked as he took in what had happened.

"I- I didn't mean to, Quinn. He- he said something about my sister and- fuck, I just pushed him, Quinn. I didn't think this was going to happen."

"Fucking hell." Quinn breathed out, her hand already resting on the butt of her pistol. "Wilson? Wilson, can you hear me?"

The burly man groaned softly, lolling his head from side to side as the virus began to take control. His body tensed suddenly and Quinn was immediately at the ready, her pistol no longer holstered but gripped tightly in her hand.

She watched as the man's gaze shifted from the needle lodged in his side to the pistol in her hand, his eyes closing as the back of his head gently hit the tank he sat against. Cautiously, Quinn moved forward, one hand reaching out towards Wilson and the other taking the safety off her gun. Before she realized what was happening, Quinn found herself being shoved aside as Wilson made a break for the gate.

Scrambling for her gun, the blonde turned and shot off a few rounds, cursing when she missed.

"Fucking hell!" She swore again, kicking the dirt angrily. Turning to Sam, Quinn composed herself quickly and instructed the man to shut the gates and barricade any other entrances. "He'll try to come back. They get hungry, not stupid. He's going to lead the entire fucking colony to us."

* * *

On the first night following his escape, the blonde could swear she could hear the agonized screams of Wilson during her self-appointed shift at guard duty. She froze at every sound resembling a pained grunt, her hand flying to her pistol.

Even during the day, Quinn had been unable to concentrate. She had turned over the experiment to her second in command, a young girl who had studied marine biology. Her mind was plagued with what she knew was an imminent attack and she worked with the other soldiers to form a fool-proof strategy. Once news had broken out about Wilson's infection, it had been unanimous to put the entire camp on lockdown.

A curfew had been implemented as well as round the clock armed guard duty. No one without special clearance was allowed outside the walls and even then, upon their return, they were stripped and searched for any suspicious lacerations.

A few days had passed but Quinn found herself unable to relax. Hazel eyes always flitted to the edges of her surroundings, searching for anything that may seem out of place. The tension in the camp seemed to lessen as hers only appeared to be increasing.

She was on edge and found herself much jumpier than normal. Twice she had found the barrel of her gun aimed directly between Sam's eyes, the second time nearly two weeks after Wilson had abandoned the camp. She had lectured the blonde man on the dangers of sneaking up on someone at post but he had just shrugged, nudging the girl playfully.

"I just came to give you some coffee, Q, see if you wanted any company." He offered amicably, a soft smile making its way onto his face.

Quinn just shook her head, opening her mouth to tell Sam to get some sleep when a noise caught their attention. Both blondes whipped around, Sam gripping a hold of the light and shining it in the direction of the rustling bush.

The pale girl had her gun aimed in the exact same spot but a small movement to the right drew her gaze to a different location. She let out a silent gasp, her eyes meeting those of Wilson's. She felt a shiver tear down her spine as the man smirked before stepping back and vanishing in the dead of night. It was when she heard a larger rustling that Quinn realized the worst.

"Wilson-" She choked out, her hands still gripping the pistol tightly.

Sam nodded once, the grim realization settling on to his features as he stared into the forest. "He wasn't alone, Quinn. We need a new plan."

**Quick thank you to mjActon who has been looking over and reviewing this for me so that it's ready for you guys to read. ****Please review. I'd love to gauge the interest in this story so as to decide whether it'll be continued or not. As far as the updates will go, it'll be once a week, sometime over the weekend but feel free to hit the alert button because life sometimes has a way of making me fall behind. -B**


	2. The Attack

**A/N: So, I've been persuaded to continue writing this and with this sitting very nice and pretty on my desktop, I figured there was no harm in posting it a few days earlier. I've also been working on a cover poster for this story and by no means is it perfect but I'll probably post it on my Tumblr (feel free to add me) soon. I hope you enjoy and once again, any and all questions are welcomed. I'll be sure to clear things up for you as soon as I can. Happy reading!**

The first wave hit earlier than anyone had expected.

It had hardly been a week since Wilson had vanished into the forest with his army of Infected and Quinn had been hard-pressed to come up with a new plan of action.

The crashing sound of wood meeting metal jolted Quinn out of her sleep. She had flown out her tent, eyes searching for the source of the noise. The havoc awaiting her turned her blood cold in an instant.

The containment team was rushing to move everyone inside, urging the panicked people to get inside the large storm bunker the camp had been built upon. She watched as one of Wilson's most trusted men thrust weaponry into a young boy's hands, instructing him to aim and shoot.

Quinn was by his side in an instant, gently taking the gun from the frightened boy's hands and crouching by his side. "Get inside with your parents. Tell your family to stay quiet and not to come out no matter what."

The boy nodded jerkily before taking off as fast as his short legs would allow him. As soon as he was out of earshot, the blonde turned on the man standing in front of her and shoved the rifle into his chest. "Whoever gave you the order to hand out armory, send him to me. We're trying to **minimize** the number of people in danger, not maximize it by shoving children on to the front lines."

The man held his head high and Quinn knew too well that he held as much contempt and disregard for her as Wilson had but she didn't have time to deal with that now. Barking out an order to get to the gates and form a wall of gunmen, she rushed to the bunker to ensure that a count was being made of each person who moved inside.

It was then that she heard the shuddering creak of the front gate starting to give and her eyes flew in the direction of the entrance. "Forget the count. Get everyone inside now!" Quinn ordered, sprinting to the gate as she grabbed one of the semi-automatic guns offered to her by one of the guards.

Sam was already there along with the small group of people thrust into the role of the camp's army. Quinn could see the fear in their eyes, watching as they kept glancing back at the bunker. The blonde straightened her shoulders, stepping forward and finally glancing at the colony of infected outside their walls. At first glance, they looked normal, _human._ The wilderness, the insanity, their lack of humanity- it was in their eyes. She flinched visibly when the large tree trunk slammed against the iron cast gate, one of its bearings giving way.

"Fuck!" She exclaimed, cocking her gun and firing a shower of bullets onto the row of the infected in front. The large log hit the ground a split second before the bodies did, but it was soon picked up by another group of the Infected, waiting at the ready.

"Get your guns ready!" Sam commanded, when the first shot sounded off. It sliced through the air, embedding itself into one of a soldier's arms. Quinn's eyes shot up in the direction of where the bullet had come from, wide in shock. Wilson stood on a low tree branch, away from the gate, directing Infected and calling out orders to shoot.

Ordering her men to fall back, the Infected opened fire and immediately, everyone on the inside of the gates fell to the ground, covering their necks and searching for cover. Quinn turned and aimed her gun in the general direction of the armed monsters, letting loose a dangerous spray of bullets. Screaming at the men to find cover, the blonde continued to fire shot after shot into the crazed group of people outside the gate.

Suddenly from her left, Quinn heard a shuddering groan of metal and watched the cast iron gate fall to the ground, as if in slow motion. She moved to her feet, gesturing wildly for the soldiers to do the same, firing off at the large mass of Infected pushing their way into the camp. She glanced back at the bunker, grateful that it had already been sealed from the inside, when the first shot sliced her arm. Letting out a yelp, more out of surprise than pain, Quinn looked ahead to find Wilson staring at her with deranged eyes and a steaming gun. She unclipped and triggered a small hand bomb, tossing it into the crowd of crazed Infected, yelling for her men to take cover. The explosion took out a substantial number of the enemies but the odds were still not in their favor.

The army scattered, rushing to find some sort of cover, some sort of leverage against the Infected pouring into the sacred ground of their beloved camp. Quinn was looking desperately for Sam, her eyes wild and searching, when the second bullet pierced her abdomen. The blonde fell to her knees as the pain bubbled up inside her.

Gathering herself to her feet, Quinn tore out of the camp, making sure to make as much noise as possible. She was hurt, not fatally, but she was sure that without medical attention, she was as good as dead. Quinn had never been much more than a realist and was well aware that even the smallest gun wound, without medical care, could lead to a fatal infection. There was no way she could get attention now and if she was going to go, Quinn was going to make damn sure that she'd take as many of these bastards down with her as she could. She made loud noises, calling out to Wilson and the rest of the Infected as she hobbled through the forest. She could hear them advancing, hot on her heels and she turned every so often to lay a few bullets into the heads of those following too closely for their own good.

A revving sound caught her attention and Quinn's gaze found an Infected speeding in her direction on one of the camp's quads. Her mind worked overtime forming an idea and the woman dug her feet into the ground, knowing she had only one chance to pull this off. She waited until the Infected was just a few feet away from her, reaching out to grab the handle of the bike with one hand and yanking on the back of the Infected's head with the other. The frenzied man fell backwards, unable to hold onto the bike and Quinn swung her leg over the seat of the quad as it tipped towards her. For a split second, the blonde felt that she had been too late and that the bike was going to overturn but all four wheels landed on the ground and Quinn gunned the engine. She turned the handle sharply, corralling the crowd into a tight circle before rolling her last grenade towards them and speeding off.

The explosion sent a wave of heat rolling up her back as she put some much needed distance in between her and the camp. It was nearly an hour when Quinn stopped for the first time. Her mind was reeling.

She glanced at the gas tank warily. It was a quarter of the way full but she knew that if she didn't find a place to take care of her wounds, she'd soon find herself in more trouble than she was currently in.

Reaching down, Quinn gingerly touched her stomach, wincing at the jolt of pain that raced through her body. She stepped off the 4-wheeler, her eyes scanning the forest in hopes of finding a path that would lead her to safety, her hand gently resting on the butt of her gun, waiting at the ready.

She moved quietly, expertly avoiding any twigs when her next step found her ankle deep in wet mud. Quinn dropped her arms in frustration, cursing under her breath at her bad luck, when the realization hit her. With mud here, Quinn was certain that there had to be some source of water and a small source of water could potentially lead her to a larger source of water.

The blonde moved with a purpose now, staying low and testing the ground when she struck gold. She cried out softly from happiness when she stumbled across a trickling stream. Kneeling down in the wet soil, Quinn brought handful after handful of water to her mouth, drinking from her hand sloppily.

With shaking hands, the blonde unbuttoned her shirt, peeling it off before soaking it in the water. When it was sufficiently wet, Quinn sat back and gently began to wipe at her wound, clenching her teeth tightly to avoid crying. She worked carefully but quickly and after the last bit of the blood was wiped clean, the blonde set to work on cleaning her shirt so as to leave as soon as possible.

Holding the soaking wet shirt in hand, Quinn headed back to the bike and opened up the limited medical kit. Spraying a stack of gauze with antibiotics, she pressed it against her wounds and quickly secured them with a roll of adhesive medical tape.

It was the best she could do at the time but Quinn needed to disinfect the bullet wounds within 24 hours and time was ticking down. Pulling her shirt, still wet, back on, the blonde mounted the bike and began her drive downstream.

* * *

It was nearly two hours later when Quinn caught sight of the shadows. She had heard the engines nearly half an hour earlier and had been actively trying to shake whoever was on her trail but was finding it hard to succeed. The small stream had grown in size but that had done little to soothe her mind when Quinn realized that she wasn't as far ahead as she had hoped.

Still, the blonde had gunned the engine, increasing her speed and hoping to make some kind of getaway. Frantically, Quinn dropped her gaze to the fuel gauge, her heart sinking at the sight of the blinking empty sign. Looking up, she cried out at the sight of a tree directly in front of her and swerved hard, losing control of the vehicle and tumbling to the forest floor.

She covered her head, waiting for the impact of the bike but it had landed a few feet away from her. Quinn scrambled to her feet, her hand flying to her holster only to find it terrifyingly empty. Hazel eyes looked around wildly, finding the butt of her handgun sticking out from underneath a few leaves. Scrambling for it, the blonde gripped it tightly in her hands, her eyes scanning for any hint of the Infected. Quinn's wrist was throbbing horribly and she noted somewhere in the back of her mind that she might have broken it during the fall.

The first feral cry she heard was only a few seconds before impact and Quinn found herself struggling under the weight of one of the Infected. She pushed the barrel of her gun deep into the frantic man's stomach and fired off three consecutive shots, wincing as she wrestled with the dead weight on top of her, finally managing to shove him off.

Pulling herself to her feet once more, Quinn rolled her shoulders in anticipation as her gaze ran over the Infected closing in. She let a hand drop to her thigh, ensuring that she had additional magazines on hand. Immediately after, she let the shots ring out.

Her aim was deadly accurate, taking out three of the five Infecteds almost immediately. One of the two lunged at her as the other scrambled away to the edge of the forest. Quinn pulled the trigger only to hear it click. She pulled her arm back, slamming the butt of her gun into the frenzied man's nose. Blood gushed out and Quinn launched forward, her fist connecting loudly with the side of his face. The jolt of pain she felt jarring up her arm was enough to stun her and she found herself struggling to reload her gun through her tears. She felt someone grip the back of her neck and Quinn cried out when the magazine fell from her hands as she was yanked backwards.

Groaning loudly, the blonde was quickly losing the ability to keep fighting; her body starting to succumb to the exhaustion from the past few hours. A sudden pressure on her wrist caused a pained scream to rip out from her throat, leaving Quinn writhing in pain. A malicious chuckle from above her forced her to open her eyes, staring up at Wilson.

"Didn't think I'd let you get away that easy now, did you, Blondie?" Wilson sneered, leaning forward and smacking Quinn's injured side. Biting down on her cheek, Quinn let out a stifled whimper of pain but refused to let any more tears fall.

"Fuck you, Wilson." She spat out, venom dripping from her words.

Wilson stepped back, looking almost giddy as he took in Quinn's battered body. Looking away, he stretched leisurely, "You know, you were wrong about everything, Quinn. We thought the Infected were the bad guys, but really…they just know how to have fun."

"How are you controlling them?" She asked breathlessly, her eyes darting between Wilson and the Infected standing behind him.

Grinning, Wilson glanced at the Infected man behind him who could hardly tear his hungry gaze from Quinn and laughed giddily. "They're idiots, Fabray. Can hardly hold a gun let alone reload it but there's power in numbers and you and I both know that. All I had to do was promise them food and take them to the motherfucking buffet."

Shaking her head in disgust, Quinn looked at the man closely. He had a feral look in his eyes, hungry for destruction, but the blonde found herself wondering if that had always been there. He seemed more in control than the others but she supposed that she hadn't spent enough time with alive Infected to know how in control they were. With Wilson's attention diverted, Quinn found herself reaching for the small hunting knife she kept tucked away in her pocket. It was the only chance she had and she took advantage of it. "How did you find me?" She whispered, her hand delving inside her pocket.

"A tracker, Blondie. All of the bikes have them. It was _your_ idea, remember?" Wilson clarified, looking down at the girl with disdain. "Who would have thought that you would be the cause of your own demise?"

The man stepped away from Quinn, turning towards the side and calling out. Her eyes darted to the side as ten more Infected stepped out from the forest and Quinn knew that the odds were certainly not in her favor. Nevertheless, she was not one to give up so easily and she used the distraction to grip the metal of her knife and carefully tuck it underneath herself with her good hand. Trying to attack Wilson in her condition would be pointless. She needed him to come closer.

Luckily, Quinn didn't need to wait long. Wilson stalked closer to the blonde, crouching down and gripping her neck in a tight grasp. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to do this, Quinnie. I'm going to make sure I do it nice and slow. I don't want to miss a single one of your screams." Reaching over with his free hand, he gripped Quinn's injured wrist and twisted harshly, relishing the pained gasp escaping the girl.

Suddenly, Wilson was staggering backwards, his eyes pained and his hands scrambling at his side where Quinn had embedded her hunting knife. Without wasting a second, the blonde surged forward for her gun and shoved the magazine inside.

The blonde was on her feet immediately, shooting over her shoulder. Her aim suffered slightly, but it was enough to slow down the Infected. Quick on her feet, Quinn weaved through the forest, her damaged hand pressed against her previous bullet wound. Her eyes were frantically searching for any place that she could hide and the blonde found that she could cry at the sight of a fenced off generator tucked away on the other side of the river.

Glancing over her shoulder, Quinn was thankful to see only a few of Wilson's men still behind her and she shot off a few rounds low to the ground. Grinning when she heard the grunts and sounds of bodies hitting the floor, Quinn emptied her gun and searched for another magazine. Her hand closed on the last one she had and she grimaced at the thought of running out of ammo, loading her gun quickly and picking up even more speed.

Up ahead, there was a smaller distance across before the stream drained into a small river. She was sprinting full speed now, her breaths shallow and labored and leaped off the edge. One of her shoes slipped as she jumped and the blonde felt a roll of fear climb up her spine as she dropped her gun on the other side and scrambled up the edge.

Snatching up her gun, Quinn began running again, this time cutting into the forest and vanishing. She moved quickly but quietly, careful not to disrupt the shrubbery too much. She knew that Wilson had armed the Infected and a single command could have a shower of bullets headed her way. They weren't good shots by any means, but with a cascade of bullets aimed in a single direction, Quinn knew she'd be as good as dead.

She came across the fenced generator quickly and Quinn moved around the area, looking for a way inside. Finding a loose edge, the blonde lifted it up and moved to slide underneath when a frightened cry caught her attention. Checking her gun quickly to count how many shots she had left, Quinn moved towards the clearance, eyes widening when she caught sight of a young girl running away from the remainders of Wilson's group.

Hazel eyes zeroed in on the gun in the girl's hands and Quinn cursed when she realized that it had most likely jammed. Aiming from her coverage, the blonde fired at the men closest to the girl, grateful when they fell down hard.

Keeping a count of the remaining bullets in her gun, Quinn moved out of hiding and shouted for the girl's attention. "Jump over! I can help you but you need to jump!"

The young girl looked over at Quinn with terror clear in her eyes but she cut a hard left, running on a fallen log and leaping over to the other side.

The blonde watched on with amazement as the girl tumbled and landed safely on the other side. Shaking her head and pulling herself out of her stupor, Quinn ran to her side and pulled the girl by her forearm. "We've got to move. Give me your gun."

Without waiting for an answer, Quinn took the gun from her hands and un-jammed the pistol before handing it back to the girl. She threw a glance over her shoulder, thankful when she didn't see any more of the Infected behind.

"Follow me." Quinn ordered, jerking her head in the direction of the generator hidden away in the forest. They moved through the trees, staying low to the ground but moving swiftly until they reached the generator. The older woman lifted up the break in the fence and gestured for the young girl to slip inside, her eyes still searching for anyone who might be on their trail.

Finding no one, Quinn knelt down and entered the small area. "Stay on this side of the fence. It's hidden from view." The girl opened her mouth, but the exhausted blonde held up her hand. "Keep your voice low. They're still around here and we want to stay as low key as possible."

Quinn let out a wearied sigh, her head resting against the rusted fence. She propped open an eye and took in the girl shivering beside her. She had dirtied blonde hair and big brown eyes, and her heart tugged in remembrance of another blonde, brown-eyed girl she had once known. The older blonde's gaze tripped over a small wound on the girl's shin, the corners of her lips pulling down into a frown. Patting down her pockets, Quinn was glad to come across the left over medic supplies. Gesturing the girl closer, she set to work on cleaning and dressing the laceration when a soft voice broke the silence.

"Quinn? Quinn Fabray?"

Eyes wide, Quinn looked up at the young blonde warily. Her mind flew to her gun, recounting all the shots she had taken since her last count. "How do you know my name?"

The blonde girl in front of her reached out to touch her face, a small smile breaking on her face. "I'm Beth." The smile on her face got even bigger then and she scooted closer to Quinn, pointing at herself first and then at Quinn. "I'm Beth...and you're my mom."

**A/N: To Dani, anon, and Jamie: Thank you so much and thank you for taking the time to review. I do hope that this story continues to live up to all of your expectations. Once again, thanks to gleefaberry for continuing to make sure my work is top notch for all of you. **

**Please leave your thoughts! **

**-B**


	3. The Homecoming

**A/N: So I have an Anatomy test tomorrow and I figured why the hell not just post the chapter a day or two early? It'll give me a good reason to procrastinate and you guys get another chapter. Thank you so much to everyone who's taking the time to review the story, as well as favorite it or put it on an alert. I'm so happy to hear that you guys are enjoying it. Now, for the Homecoming. Enjoy! **

Quinn's heart stopped.

She could have sworn that she felt each drop of blood drain from her face as the girl's words echoed in her mind.

Suddenly, Quinn was clambering closer to Beth, pulling the little girl tightly against her and whispering through her tears. "I thought you were dead, Beth-oh, God, you're so grown up." Her heart took delight in the small giggle escaping the young blonde as she tried to escape Quinn's embrace. "Beth. You're really here."

The tears were blurring her vision but that did nothing to deter Quinn from running her eyes over Beth's face, taking in the girl's dark eyes and her smile and her cheekbones. She laughed a watery chuckle as her heart surged at the sight of the small birthmark just below the girl's ear. She pushed the little girl away from her chest, her eyes scrutinizing every small detail she could see.

"Jesus, you're so old. You're like—what? Ten?" Quinn muttered, her face contorted in confusion as she counted back in her head.

Beth snorted, not at all delicately, and shook her head. "I'm eleven, about to be twelve.

"Fuck, I'm the old one," Quinn breathed out, hazel eyes widening in shock. "Shit. Don't say that word!" Pausing, the older woman reached up to rub the back of her neck awkwardly. "You're beautiful, Beth. So much more so than what I ever imagined."

"Oh god." Beth mumbled, hiding her face in her hands, muffling her words.

"What?" Quinn exclaimed, "Isn't that what I'm supposed to say?"

"No." The girl deadpanned, looking at the older woman with a pointed glare and a raised eyebrow.

Quinn gaped at Beth, completely taken aback by how much the little girl acted like her.

The younger blonde just chuckled, clearly amused by how thrown Quinn was. Shaking her head, the older woman gestured her daughter near. "Jesus—how did you even recognize me?"

"I don't remember anything from when I was younger but Mama, Aunt B and S always made sure I knew who my mom was. I've heard stories about you and even seen a few pictures. Not many, but enough to be able to recognize you."

"I see…" Quinn murmured, pursing her lips together as she pieced together her daughter's story. "And where do you live?"

Eying the older blonde, Beth seemed to be appraising Quinn before she let a smirk pull at her lips. "I'm not _supposed_ to tell strangers but I guess you're kind of an exception. There's a cabin nearby and I've been staying there for as long as I can remember. It's big and strong and fenced off. Aunt B thinks there used to be a dog there because she found some toys in the shed. I wish we had a dog. I'd name him Ghost and he'd help keep all the zombies away from us and we'd always be safe!" Beth veered off topic, eyes shining as she rambled on about her fantasy dog.

Quinn watched on with amusement as her daughter spoke animatedly about how she'd care for her would-be pet. "He sounds like he'd be a great dog. But what about food, Beth? And supplies?"

Slightly put off at the interruption, Beth shrugged. "Santana usually goes out to get whatever we need. Aunt B goes with her sometimes but me and Mama just stay around here."

"And your mama is…?"

"Rachel Berry. Do you remember her? They told me that you and her were best friends." Ducking her head shyly, Beth looked up through her long eyelashes. "I hope you don't mind me calling her Mama."

Her throat suddenly dry, Quinn searched Beth's eyes as she voiced her next question. "I—I don't. How is Rachel?"

"She's okay. She's sad most of the time but she tries to hide it. I think seeing you would make it better." The girl suddenly looked as young as she was, uncertainty coloring her features. "You will come back with me, right? Santana, Aunt B—everyone missed you so much."

"You all live together?"

"Yeah, I was really little but Mama said that Santana and Aunt B—Aunt Brittany—found me and Mama when we were lost. They were the ones that had found this place and they brought us back here."

Quinn hummed in response, worrying her bottom lip in deep thought.

"So will you come back with me? Please?" Beth asked again, this time reaching for Quinn's hand and holding it tightly between her own.

Thinking back on her own camp, most likely decimated in the wake of Wilson's army, the older blonde nodded hesitantly. She was exhausted from the exertion and her side was aching more than she wanted to let on.

Reaching over for Beth's gun, Quinn toyed with it quietly, the thought of seeing Rachel sitting heavily on her shoulders. "Who taught you how to handle a gun?"

"Santana did. She says I'm a pretty good shot."

"If she was going to teach you, she should have at least taught you right. Being a good shot means next to nothing if you don't know what to do in an emergency." Making sure she had the girl's attention, the Quinn demonstrated what Beth should do if another jam occurred in the heat of the moment. "Next time when your gun jams, pull the slide back like this and let the empty shell fall out. If that doesn't work, that means that there are two bullets fighting for the same space and you need to take out your mag first and then pull the slide back. Don't forget to put those bullets back in the gun because it's still good ammo. Better yet, always keep an extra weapon on you and don't ever leave home without someone else with you. "

Beth looked up at her mother, biting her lip as she assessed the woman in front of her. "You sound just like a mom. I was wondering—if I could maybe—and it's okay if you don't want me to—"

"Out with it, Beth." Quinn teased, waiting for the girl to finish her thought.

"Could I call you Mom?"

"I—I'm not so sure about—"

"Please? I never thought I'd actually get to meet you." Dropping her head, Beth continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought you were dead."

Letting out a huge sigh, Quinn let her head fall back against the chained fence, staying silent for quite some time. "Fine. Just try to keep it to a minimum. I'm dealing with an overwhelming amount of information right now and I might just explode."

"Seriously?!" Beth asked incredulously, her face already lighting up with excitement.

Quinn chuckled softly, struggling to her feet as she jerked her head towards the woods. "Yeah, seriously, kid. Now let's get to the cabin before it gets too dark. Keep your gun loaded and your voice down."

* * *

The two blondes moved deliberately and quickly, reaching the fenced off abode in a little less than fifteen minutes. Quinn stood to the side as she watched Beth tinker with a mess of locks before finally pulling the gate open. They trudged up to the front door of a sizable cabin when Beth hesitated.

Turning to the taller blonde before her, Beth worried her bottom lip as she shuffled from side to side. "You know, I wasn't kidding when I said that we all thought you were dead. You seem pretty okay to me. Why didn't you find us?"

Quinn winced internally, looking at the other girl with shame etched into her features. "I- I don't have an answer for that, Beth. I tried for a long time and after a while I just assumed—I assumed the worst but I never stopped hoping that you and Rach had gotten as far away from all of this as you could possibly get."

Seemingly satisfied for the moment, Beth paused before suddenly rambling out. "Right now, the only one at home is Mama. I- I think you should break the news to her because she can be a little dramatic and I'm still not sure if she's going to hug you or kill you for coming back so I'm going to find Aunt B in the meantime. She and Santana went out fishing and forgot to take the cooler again."

Quinn opened her mouth to object, fear gripping her heart and causing the blood in her veins to go cold, as she reached out to stop Beth. In return, there was a key pressed tightly in her hand, a small hint of a smile on the girl's face as she grabbed the cooler and skipped away.

The older blonde stood in silence, white knuckling the key, as she absorbed everything happening around her. She leaned against the door, her breaths coming in ragged as she did her best to keep from hyperventilating.

Wincing as the lock gave way, Quinn held her breath as she opened the door. Swallowing hard, she slipped inside, her eyes sweeping over the room for any sign of Rachel. Her footsteps seemed much too loud as she stepped inside, grimacing at the sound the door made as it creaked when settling back in the frame. Trying to compose herself, Quinn leaned against the small dining table in the corner, half set with dishes and bowls. Inhaling deeply, she allowed a small smirk at the thought of Rachel coming across her fainted body.

Slightly calmer, Quinn turned on her heel slowly, taking in the room with a sweeping gaze, unsurprised when her mouth began to water at the sight of a large pot simmering on the stove. Glancing up at all the pots and pans hanging from a rack meticulously and in order of size, the blonde allowed a small chuckle to escape her. It was so reminiscent of how Rachel's kitchen had been arranged years ago, right down to the small paper above the sink instructing everyone to clean their dishes immediately. Quinn recalled how many times she had been chastised for leaving her dishes out on the counter instead of rinsing them immediately.

She took a step towards the stove, the smell becoming much too enticing when she heard the wood creak loudly. Her gaze shot to her own feet, sending a withering glare in their direction as if the noise was made intentionally. When a similar creak was heard from another room, Quinn tensed up immediately, reminding herself to breathe in and out. Just the thought of Rachel flitting around in another room was enough to put her back on edge.

The sounds became clearer and the blonde was sure her heart had stopped along with the rest of her body in anticipation. When a petite brunette appeared in the doorframe, wiping her hands on a washcloth and humming to herself, Quinn felt even the most basic functions of her body halt abruptly.

Rachel didn't look up immediately, moving to the stove and checking on what she had been preparing for dinner. Quinn opened her mouth, willing herself to say anything as she watched the brunette throw a spice into the pot and stir as she swayed to some tune in her head.

The blonde counted to three internally, shutting her eyes and trying once more to speak. It took her another three seconds for her eyes to flutter open. Quinn was startled to meet the gaze of the suddenly shell-shocked brunette in front of her. Rachel's eyes were wide and frightened, hands frozen in time as she took in the ragged looking blonde in front of her.

Quinn mustered a small smile, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she took a hesitant step forward. "Rachel…I- Hi."

The words rocked the brunette backwards, a soft sob escaping her as her eyes slid closed and she crumpled to the floor.

Quinn, pausing only a second due to shock, was at Rachel's side immediately. Cradling the woman's head gently in her hands, her eyes ran over the lithe body in search of any injuries she might have attained because of the fall. She called Rachel's name a few time, brushing the brunette curls out of the girl's face. Pursing her lips, Quinn deduced that Rachel had simply fainted and that she was in no immediate danger. Allowing herself to gaze more closely at the woman she had long since thought to be dead, the blonde let her head loll backwards as she quelled the tears that she had kept at bay for so long.

Taking no more than just a minute to regain composure, Quinn gently lifted the woman up off the floor. A sharp pang from her side caused her to wince but the blonde grit through the pain and moved into a small bedroom.

There was a small bed, neatly made, and Quinn lay Rachel down gently, pulling the covers over the sleeping girl. She moved to retrieve a glass of water from the kitchen, snatching an empty glass from the table and filling it up with a jug from the fridge. With a hand held tightly against her side, Quinn hobbled back into the room and set the glass on a nightstand next to the bed. Her eyes roamed around the room, taking in the sheer curtains, the canopy style bed when they fell upon a small frame sitting on the dresser. Moving closer, she felt the familiar prick of tears when she saw her own face staring back at her, sandwiched between Brittany's and Santana's.

Quinn shook her head, willing the tears to stop and moved closer to the bed to check on Rachel. Taking extra precautions to assure her comfort, the taller woman soon found herself gazing down once more at the sleeping brunette. How many times had she awoken to such a sight before? How many times had she woken to find a warm chocolate gaze directed so fondly at her?

The throbbing in her side tore the blonde's attention from the sleeping woman and she knew she needed to attend to her injuries soon.

Sighing as she silently left the room, Quinn looked around until she came upon the small bathroom near the back of the house. She began to shuffle through cabinets, overcome with relief when she came across a well-stocked first aid kit tucked underneath the sink.

Cautiously, the blonde peeled her shirt back from the crudely bandaged wound and worked to undress it, scowling when the edges of torn skin were pulled away from her body. Gazing at the wound in the mirror, she took her time to assess the damage, ultimately deciding that she would live.

Contorting her face in pain as she sprayed the gaping wound with antiseptic spray, Quinn placed a substantial amount of gauze over the frayed skin, using medical tape to hold the gauze in place. The wound was dressed much more cleanly this time and the blonde paused to admire her work. It would stay in place and the wound had stopped bleeding, leaving her more or less optimistic in terms of survival.

Turning her attention to her wrist, Quinn unceremoniously waved it around, wincing at the pain. It was a fleeting pain leaving the blonde to deduce that she had lucked out in just spraining the joint and that some painkillers would be more than sufficient. Sifting through the box, she grinned when she came upon a bottle of Vicodin and popped one into her mouth. Pausing, Quinn tilted her head from side to side before taking out another and swallowing that one as well, concluding that a gunshot wound warranted a higher dose of painkillers.

Moving back into the kitchen, she reached up to rub the back of her neck as the exhaustion began creeping up on her. However, another whiff of whatever was on the stove had Quinn's stomach rumbling in want. Glancing up at the oak colored cabinets surrounding the kitchen, she began to rummage through each one coming upon spices and glasses before she found the flatware. She grabbed hold of a brightly colored bowl and turned her attention to the pot.

Quinn almost moaned at the sight of the thick stew, helping herself to a generous serving. Placing the lid back on, the blonde threw a side-glance at where Rachel lay resting and flicked the stove off before she began to eat. Turning on her heel, her gaze tripped over a long chunky loaf of bread sitting on the counter. Her mouth watered at the sight and Quinn barely hesitated before tearing off a chunk and drowning it in the stew. The sound she made at the taste of the soaked bread embarrassed even Quinn and she grinned sheepishly though no one was around. The bread was stale but having it been so long since she had eaten it, Quinn was hardly concerned with the freshness of the food.

Polishing off the remainder of her stew, the blonde set her dish on the counter and yawned loudly. Heading back to where Rachel lay sleeping, Quinn decided that a short nap and some rest was what her body desperately needed now that the wounds were cleaned and she was fed.

Glancing down at the brunette, Quinn felt a wave of sadness overcome her as she recalled all the times she had escaped the safety of her bed, batting playfully at Rachel's hands trying to pull her back in to the warmth.

She let a soft shuddering breath escape, knowing that she'd give more than anything to have those moments back but it all seemed so far away. A time during which they had no need to worry of life and death matters seemed to be one of another lifetime.

But this moment was here. This moment was now. She was being offered an opportunity that she had been so sure was impossible just yesterday and a decision needed to be made.

Hesitating only for a moment, Quinn lifted up the blanket covering the other woman and slipped underneath as exhaustion settled into her bones. Sleep came quickly, the weight of her eyelids almost too much to fight, but the blonde refused to succumb to its clutches until she held Rachel securely against her once more.

Arms sliding around the small waist, lips nuzzling the soft skin of a tanned neck, Quinn allowed the first genuinely content smile to pull at her lips as her breathing evened out and darkness overcame her.

* * *

Rachel was unsure of what exactly had transpired when her eyes fluttered open to meet the ceiling of Santana's room. A soft groan escaped her and her hand flew to her temple in hopes to quell the throbbing pain she found there. She closed her eyes again, trying to let sleep overcome her once more when she felt the warm tickle of someone's breath on her neck.

Pulling back slightly, Rachel let out a silent gasp when she took in Quinn's face next to her. It had been so long since the brunette had seen the woman and it was so rare to wake up to the blonde next to her.

Delusions, she mused to herself, taking advantage in the slight reprieve her mind offered her from the sadness that had become her life. Her hand reached out, as if of its own accord, fingers stroking soft circles along her cheekbone, tracing the dark circles embedded under the blonde's woman's eyes, rediscovering the soft lips with the pad of her fingers.

This Quinn had aged. Rachel couldn't help the downward tug on her lips as her eyes swept over the fine wrinkles accruing on the face of the woman from her past. This was new for Rachel, as the Quinn that visited was as Rachel remembered her: frozen at the age of seventeen. Rachel paused and had to admit that though her imagination was certainly not lacking, this projection of Quinn was too real.

The heartbeat, steady and strong against her back. The even, warm, puffs of breath tickling the hairs on her neck. Even Quinn's hand entwined with one of her own was much too vivid to just be another delusion.

"Rachel?"

The unsure whisper of her name pulled the brunette out of the recesses of her mind, wide eyes meeting a frightened hazel gaze. The shorter woman turned over gently, angling herself so that she lay face to face with the vision of beauty her heart had never let go.

Rachel's finger shot up, pressing firmly against the blonde's lips. It all was so real and she didn't want anything to startle her awake. It had been quite some time since Rachel had dreamt of Quinn and if she was being offered such a vivid and real moment, she was going to take advantage of it.

Anything Quinn had intended to say was immediately forgotten as the brunette leaned forward, her eyes fluttering closed. The kiss was gentle, lips tentatively sliding against each other's as the two slipped into a familiar dance that both thought was long forgotten.

Hands roamed along curves, relearning what had once been etched so clearly in their minds. Bodies pressed together cautiously, such closeness being a luxury neither had bothered with in such times. The taller woman gripped Rachel's waist, twisting herself so that the brunette now lay on top of her. She could hardly remember a time when her body felt as aflame as now, a moment in which she felt so alive. All thoughts of intricate speeches and confessions of love flew from Quinn's mind as she found herself delving deeper and deeper in the safety of Rachel's arms.

Suddenly, the blonde found herself nursing a throbbing cheek and facing a heated gaze from the petite brunette. Without thought, she spat out, "Fuck- Rach. What the hell was that?"

"That's for fucking abandoning me!" Rachel snapped back, her eyes boring into Quinn's. In the back of her hand, the brunette noted the stinging in her hand and tried to recall whether you could feel pain while dreaming or not.

The blonde woman's eyebrows shot up at the curse and she fought a smirk from making its presence known. "So, you curse now? That's new."

"Yeah, I curse n- Are you- Are you laughing at me?" Rachel growled out, dipping her head and capturing Quinn's lips once more as one of her hands skated underneath the blonde's shirt.

The skin she found there was as soft as she remembered and Rachel reveled in the feeling of a warm body tensing and writhing underneath her. Some days, she found herself fighting to recall the feeling of the blonde's hand in her own or the exact color of hazel she had fallen so in love with. She worried herself sick those days, crying late into the night as she willed her memories to return. Other days, days like these, Rachel would laugh at herself and at the notion that she could forget anything about Quinn Fabray. The blonde was engrained so deeply in her memories that Rachel knew that it was the way it would always be.

Dreams like these had become scarce and the brunette found it hard to swallow when a hand reached to roughly palm her breast. There was a familiar coiling in her stomach, long since forgotten, and Rachel let a moan escape when she felt Quinn's hands pull her closer. She sighed into the other girl's mouth, pulling back to murmur incredulously. "My imagination really has outdone itself this time…"

Leaning back in, Rachel was surprised to have Quinn pull away, her forehead crumpled in confusion. "Wait—what do you mean your imagination?"

Huffing impatiently, the shorter woman sat up and crossed her arms, glaring down at Quinn. "I'm imagining you here again, of course." Sighing dramatically, Rachel rolled her eyes. "And now you're going to sit there telling me you're real."

The smile that graced the taller woman features did nothing but make her look that much more different. Older Quinn had gotten less pretty with age, Rachel noted, a more striking and ethereal beauty taking its place. "I _am_ real, Rach. I'm here."

The entire thing was taking such a toll on Rachel and, despite her best attempts, she found herself fighting over whether she should believe the blonde or not. "I'm sorry, but I don't want to face the inevitable heartache that no doubt awaits me when I realize you are just another figment of my imagination-"

"_Rachel."_ Quinn cut in, taking the girl's face in her hands, her thumbs tracing circles languidly along the skin "Do you feel this?"

She waited for a nod from the brunette before continuing, her hands dropping down to take Rachel's. She brought the girl's hands to her lips, lavishing the pad of each fingertip with a soft kiss. "How about that, Rach? Can you feel that?"

"Y-yes, but—"

"No buts, Rachel. Just trust your heart." Quinn murmured, a soft smile on her lips as she watched the brunette struggle to catch up with everything that was happening. The second slap was deafening and the blonde swore internally at the metallic taste filling her mouth.

Rachel scrambled off Quinn, her hands clenched at her sides as she looked torn between tears and hitting the blonde a third time. "I—I—fuck you, Quinn!"

Groaning at the sharp pain in her side, Quinn struggled to sit up and reached out for Rachel only to have her hand smacked away. The blonde cursed at the realization that this was not going to be an easy homecoming and pulled herself to her feet only to have the brunette round on her.

"Where the hell have you been? It's been ten fucking years and you choose now to come back? And what the fuck was that!? You don't bother telling me anything and just crawl into bed with me? What did you think, Quinn? That everything would be just peachy for the two of us again?" Rachel snarled, dangerously close to throwing things at the chagrined blonde. "And what about Beth?" Just the thought of Quinn's daughter had all of the color draining out of Rachel's face and she swallowed hard, suddenly finding it hard to stay standing. "Oh God, what about Beth?"

Staggering towards the wall, the brunette sank to the floor and closed her eyes as the tears began to make their way down her face. "Quinn—"

"I met Beth, she's the reason I'm here. Without her—I never would have even known you were still alive, Rachel." Quinn interjected softly, making her way over to where Rachel had sat. She took a seat nearby, making sure to give the brunette enough space of her own. "She got caught outside with a group of Infecteds and-h—her gun had jammed. I saw her just in time and we got—"

Rachel immediately paled, breaths coming out in shallow puffs, her words coming out frightened and urgent. "She wasn't bitten, was she?"

Glancing up at the stricken brunette, Quinn cut in to soothe her fears, reaching out to touch the girl's arm gently before thinking better of it "She's safe, she's safe. She brought me back here and then went to the lake. She's with Brittany and Santana. I made sure her gun was fixed before she left." She watched from the corner of her eyes as Rachel visibly relaxed, letting out a shuddering breath as she let her head loll backwards against the wall.

"Thank god. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there—if anything had happened to her…" Rachel whispered, reaching up to wipe the tears off her cheeks, turning her head in the blonde's direction. "Where have you been, Quinn? What was so important that it kept you from coming home to me?"

The anguish was clear in her voice and Quinn could feel the itching in her hands, wanting nothing more than to pull the brunette into her arms. She clenched them tightly, ultimately resorting to clasping them together in her lap as she stumbled through her explanation. "I—I don't know, Rachel. I swear that I looked for you. I staggered through that goddamn forest for almost a year looking for any sign of you. It was like you'd all but vanished and—Jesus, Rachel—I thought I was losing my mind. I barely had enough to eat and I had no idea where I was even going but I kept going—kept thinking that maybe tomorrow."

The tears had thickened her voice and Quinn paused to clear her throat, reaching up to swipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry. God, I'm so fucking sorry for leaving you. I just—all I wanted was to keep you safe, keep Beth safe. Near the end of my search—I was so hopelessly lost. So sick that I'm sure I wouldn't have survived the week. I was still a kid, Rach. How is a seventeen-year-old cheerleader supposed to figure out how to navigate through the forest when all hell's broken loose?"

Rachel's eyes had glazed over and she sat completely and utterly silent as she took in each and every one of Quinn's words.

"Sam found me in the end. He had been working for a camp and they'd been out on a scavenge when he'd come across me. There was a doctor there who helped me get better. No one was infected there and it was safe. After I got better, I had to start earning my stay and I began working there too. I've been—I've been trying to find a cure and we were so close when—" Quinn broke off, her throat constricting at the thought of what would have happened to all of her friends, to Sam. "I'm sorry, Rachel. I thought I'd lost you both—I swear, if I had known that you were still okay. Christ, if I'd known you were so close, I never would have stopped looking for you."

"The camp…?"

"Three hundred miles out." Quinn croaked out. "Sam said I was about a hundred miles away from them when they found me—If I had just kept going—"

"And where's Sam now, Quinn?" Rachel asked, fresh tears threatening to fall.

"I—I don't know." The blonde breathed out. "We were attacked. I was shot and—"

"Shot? Who shot you?" The shorter woman interjected, a hand reaching out for Quinn in concern as worried brown eyes swept over her body for any visible injuries.

"We had a secondary storage for weaponry outside the camp. The leader of the Containment Team—he got infected and I'm pretty sure he's the reason the Infected have guns."

"Infected, huh? We just call them zombies." Rachel admitted sheepishly.

"They're not coming back from the dead, though. Imagine losing all sense of morality and self-control. Just becoming this basic and instinctual shell of what you used to be. That's what they are. They just want what they want. Food, sex, pleasure."

Shaking her head, Rachel decided that she didn't like any bit of the new information. "Great. You got shot. What happened next?"

"I got shot twice, actually. In the heat of battle there's no way for me to stop and clean out the wounds. I was sure that I was a goner and I figured that if I was going to go, I'd take some of the bastards with me."

"Always have to be a fucking hero, don't you?" Rachel spat out venomously, guilt immediately coloring her features. "I'm sorry, that was—I didn't mean it."

Taking in a sharp breath, Quinn reached up to rub harshly at her face with her good hand. "No, you did. But it's fine. I deserve it."

"Are you okay?" Rachel asked after a moment, gesturing to Quinn's body as she clarified her sentence. "The wounds. Did you already take care of them?"

"I did. One just grazed the skin on my arm and the second was a through and through shot through my side. It's stopped bleeding and it's bandaged nicely so…."

The brunette hummed in understanding before jerking her head towards Quinn's hand. "And your wrist? You've been favoring it since you woke up."

Shrugging it off, the tired girl sighed. "It's a sprain. I helped myself to some Vicodin from your first aid kit."

"Santana won't like that." Rachel quipped to which Quinn only grunted her disregard of what her friend thought.

The conversation lulled to a stop soon after and the two girls sat unmoving, their emotions finally having had gotten the best of them. It was as if time had screeched to a halt and neither girl could gauge how long they sat in the room together.

"I'm not okay, Quinn." Rachel admitted long after the silence had become unbearable. Still, the girl scooted closer and closed the distance between them.

Quinn's eyes fluttered open and she turned her head slightly towards Rachel. "It's okay. Neither am I."

Reaching out, a hand took Quinn's and squeezed gently, just once as Rachel let her head drop to the blonde's shoulder.

"Good."

**A/N: Jamie and Guest: Thank you so much for your reviews. The Infected do indeed eat humans and you'll definitely get a little bit more insight on how they work in the next chapter. **

**And to everyone else: I'm thrilled that you guys are enjoying this story because I'm having a blast writing it for you guys. Like always, if you enjoyed it please let me know and if you've got any questions, ask away. I'm more than happy to answer without giving too much away. -B**


	4. Whispers in the Dark

**A/N:** **Hey there. Sorry for the late update. Good news! I got a hundred on my anatomy test. Bad news? I've been cramming for my physics test tomorrow. Anyway, I got this done the other day and just wanted to give it a quick read through before posting it up. It is a shorter chapter but that's because of where I needed to end it. Anyway, thank you to everyone who is leaving reviews and I'm sorry I couldn't get responses sent out this last chapter to your reviews. Being a premed student is not an easy task. Anyway, do enjoy. And look for the next part to be updated over next weekend. Back to physics!**

**Warning: This chapter lacks Faberry and is more Quinn/Santana centric. The next chapter will be Faberry heavy so there's no need to worry. Rachel and Quinn belong together, folks. OH! And there's a little bit of detail regarding Quinn's stitches. Some may not like the description of rudimentary stitching and if that makes you feel queasy, I suggest you skim over that part. **

"Rachel."

Quinn felt the brunette tense up at the sound of her name, protesting internally as she felt Rachel pull away from her.

"You've got to be shitting me." Santana lingered in the doorway; her face paler than Quinn had ever seen it before. Her gaze was fixed in the blonde's direction, raking over the dirtied girl.

Quinn could see the blonde hair dancing in the background and she tilted her head for a better view when Brittany barged past Santana.

Pain shot through her abdomen and a soft pained gasp escaped Quinn as Brittany's arm wrapped around her in a tight hug. Rachel moved towards the duo, pulling on the taller girl's arm and murmuring for her to loosen up.

"She's hurt, Britt. You've got to be gentle. "

Rachel reached towards Quinn's arm when Santana's voice cut through the air, the edge in her tone pulling Brittany's lips into a deep frown. "Dinner's on the stove still, Rachel. And there's some fish that Britt caught. Could you take care of that while I take care of Quinn."

"I've already taken care of myself, Santana." Quinn cocked an eyebrow up, anger flashing in her eyes briefly.

The tension in the room was broken when a clattering of dishes was heard from the kitchen. All eyes turned towards Beth as she came barreling through the doorway and breathlessly exclaimed, "I just want it to be known that the broken dishes in the kitchen were already there when I walked in."

The young girl's eyes were fixed on Rachel's before she nodded decisively and skipped away to another room in the cabin.

Rachel's eyes fluttered closed and her hand flew to her temple as she sighed in frustration. "I should—I should go clean up the mess and get the rest of dinner ready." She moved to exit the room, stopping next to Santana and grasping the girl's wrist gently, her voice low and gentle. "It's going to be okay, San. We'll talk later."

Quinn watched the exchange, discontent bubbling up inside her. The way that Santana visibly relaxed at Rachel's touch, the smile that pulled at the corners of their lips; it all had Quinn's temper flaring.

Rachel turned her head towards Quinn, sending a small smile in her direction before exiting the room and sternly calling for Beth to immediately report to the kitchen.

Santana stepped inside the room, turning slightly to shut the door behind her. Her next three strides were deliberate and quick, not unlike the way a snake strikes at its prey, and Quinn found herself looking down a barrel of a gun. Ignoring the gasp escaping Brittany, Santana sneered at the grungy blonde. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't throw your fucking ass out of my house, Fabray."

Quinn's gaze remained steady but her breathing was erratic and she had never felt more relieved when Brittany smacked Santana's arm and chastised her for treating guests so rudely. When the blonde demanded the gun be put away immediately, Quinn was unsurprised when Santana reluctantly tossed it onto her bed.

Santana ran a hand through her locks, muttering under her breath in Spanish as she undid the holsters and pulled weapons hidden on her person. Brittany was moving around the room, putting away the things Santana was dropping on their bed. When the Latina kicked off her boots, the blonde immediately fixed a stern look in her direction prompting the brunette to groan loudly before moving the shoes to the small closet in the corner.

Quinn watched on silently as Santana stretched and cracked several bones in her body. Brittany disappeared from the room and the brunette finally turned her attention back to Quinn. "What hurts and how much?"

The blonde was pulled gently towards the bed where she was prompted to sit down. Brittany came in and set the first aid kit next to Quinn and a much larger black bag on the floor. Hazel eyes watched intently as Santana began rummaging through the black bag, pulling out a small flashlight.

"When did you become a doctor, Lopez?" Quinn retorted, rolling her eyes at the seriousness Santana displayed.

"Since the world went to shit, Q. Since I had to grow up at seventeen and fight to survive this godforsaken life." Santana bit back, her eyes flashing at the blonde. "I'd be thankful instead of rude. Everything I learned from my dad, it's all coming out to be pretty fucking handy. The trips to the gun range, first aid classes—"

"Really?" Quinn interrupted, her tone sharp and angry. "Is that why you_ forgot_ to teach Beth how to unjam a gun?"

Santana looked taken aback but Quinn's blood was boiling and without a gun pointed at her head, the blonde was not going to back down again. Standing up, she thrust a finger into the brunette's chest, her tone accusatory. "I saved Beth, Santana. If it wasn't for me, she would have been attacked, and all because you didn't teach her the basics of gun handling. So all this talk about how you're this fucking savior and acting like I'm some leper—it's all a bunch of shit. Beth is alive because of me. Not you, me."

The slap caught Quinn by surprise, a hand having caught the same side that Rachel had slapped earlier. The blonde whirled on Santana, a fist at the ready but she found Brittany standing protectively in front of the brunette.

The usually calm girl was furious, taking a step forward and invading Quinn's personal space. "You need to calm down, Q. I missed you, but that's my girlfriend and you're being mean."

Quinn opened her mouth, ready to snap, when Santana stepped to the side and put a hand on Brittany's shoulder. "It's okay, B. Why don't you go ahead and help Rachel with dinner and let me have some time with Quinn."

Brittany looked reluctant to say the least but she nodded stiffly and moved to leave but not before stopping and glowering at Quinn. "Santana belongs to me, Quinn, and I like her happy and safe. Don't forget that."

The door closed softly behind the blonde, and Quinn exhaled deeply. "Well, Britt's definitely got some fight in her now."

"Cut the crap, Q. Sit down." Santana ordered. When she hesitated, the brunette threw up her hands in frustration. "Listen, Indiana Jones. Rachel is going to have my ass if I don't get you bandaged up all nicely and Brittany is going to have yours if you say anymore shit. Sit down, shut up, and let's just get through this."

Santana was quick in her movements, her fingers moving expertly over Quinn's wrist, ultimately deciding that the blonde was luckier than she had thought. It was a pulled muscle in her forearm and a day or two of rest would take care of that. The difficult part came when Santana asked Quinn to lift up her shirt.

The girl hissed in disapproval when she removed the bandage over Quinn's wound. "Fuck, Q. What happened?"

"I got shot by one of the Infected." Quinn answered, eyes clenched tightly as Santana examined the wound more closely.

"Shot? When did those fuckers get guns?"

"Since a douchebag handed over half my camp's weaponry to them."

Santana paused, her eyes flitting up to meet Quinn's. "How far is your camp from here?"

"I don't know—two or three hundred miles out. Maybe more, maybe a little less."

Worry clouded the brunette's gaze and she pursed her lips. "We—we're going to need to talk more about that later, Q."

Albeit slightly confused, Quinn agreed and groaned when Santana touched an especially tender spot on her side.

Sitting back on her calves, the brunette looked up at Quinn a little sympathetically. "You need stitches. It's not bleeding anymore but it's going to take a hell of a lot longer to heal if we don't get this closed. That's not even talking about the infections."

"And the stitching would be—"

"Done by me." Santana answered, already rummaging through the larger bag. She pulled out a small leather bag and set it to the side before standing up to leave the room. She returned quickly, brandishing a small bottle whiskey. "Listen, Q. We don't have any special anesthetic so we're going to do this the old fashioned way. Drink up."

Quinn caught the small bottle, gaping at the brunette. She had to have been kidding but as Santana rubbed hand sanitizer on her hands and pulled out a long slender needle and some silk thread, the blonde realized what she was in for and took a generous gulp from the bottle.

The liquid burned down her throat and Quinn doubled over coughing. The pain ripping through her stomach caused her to grunt in pain. Santana rested a hand on the girl's knee, smiling apologetically as she guided the bottle back up to Quinn's lips. "You're going to need to drink more than that, Q. This is going to hurt."

Fifteen minutes and several more gulps of whiskey had Quinn feeling warm on the inside. Santana finished sterilizing the rudimentary equipment and gestured the blonde to lay on her side. The brunette disappeared into her closet and reappeared with a leather belt. "Bite down on this if you've got the urge to scream. Beth and Britt hate people in pain and Rachel's prone to fainting whenever given the opportunity." Quinn initially refused but relented when Santana continued. "Trust me, you'll have the urge to scream."

Clenching her eyes shut, Quinn gasped when she felt the needle pierce through her skin. Santana held the wound closed and moved expertly but experience could do next to nothing for Quinn. The sterilized thread stung as it pulled through in the wake of the sharp needle.

She felt the thread tug the wound tightly closed and moved to pull the belt closer to her. When Santana knotted the first stitch, Quinn grunted in pain and bit down firmly on the leather.

In the past ten years, Santana had most certainly become quite skilled in stitching wounds closely but it was still a timely process and she needed to be sure it was done properly to ensure that infection didn't affect the wound while it healed.

Quinn whined in pain, tears escaping her eyes as the burning on her side increased. She was drowsy, drunk even, but the whiskey had not done as much as she had hoped as far as the pain went. A thin layer of sheen covered her forehead by the time that Santana had finished stitching the entry wound and she was grateful for the reprieve from the pain.

Santana pressed a towel to the blonde's head, wiping away the sweat and brushing the blonde strands out of Quinn's face before informing her that she needed to turn over so that the exit wound could be stitched up.

Groggily, Quinn turned over, relinquishing her hold on the belt in favor of burying her face in a pillow. She was white-knuckling the pillow in anticipation and hissed when she felt Santana back at work. The brunette pierced her skin over and over, tugging on the edges of the frayed skin and knotting the silk before snipping the thread and moving on to the next stitch.

Finally, she felt Santana sit back and set her tools to the side. The tears were flowing freely at this point and Quinn felt a prominent ache in her side. The alcohol had made her sluggish and the procedure had been so physically draining that Quinn found herself struggling to stay awake.

Santana, noting the blonde beginning to drift away, gingerly wiped the wounds down and sprayed antibacterial spray over the sutures. "I'll check it in a week and if you're healing well, I should be able to cut them for you.

"San?" Quinn muttered, her hands reaching out for the brunette and smiling groggily when Santana grasped one of the searching hands. Rather than continuing with her thought, Quinn just giggled and buried her face in the pillow.

Patting Quinn's hand, Santana let out a soft chuckle. "Get some sleep, Quinn. I'll have Brittany come and get you when Rach gets dinner ready."

Quinn hummed in response, pulling a pillow closer and cuddling into it. Santana leaned over and covered the blonde with a blanket, smiling softly when the blonde whined. "Nooo—wait."

"What is it now, Q?"

"Thanks for taking care of my family."

The smile dropped from Santana's face and she took in a sharp breath, ready to rip into Quinn when she heard the light snore coming from the blonde's direction. She closed the door quietly behind her, looking up as Rachel sent her an adoring smile and muttered under her breath. "I'm going to kill her."

* * *

"_Her_ family? Who the fuck does she think she is?"

Quinn's eyes fluttered open at the outburst and she blinked as she adjusted to the darkness of the room. Groaning, her hands flew to her head in hopes to quell the throbbing she found there. Remembering the appalling amount of alcohol she had consumed earlier, Quinn knew that she should be grateful that she wasn't huddled over a toilet, emptying the contents of her stomach out violently. She pulled herself up slowly, careful not to jostle her newly stitched wounds.

Craning her neck, Quinn's hands ghosted over the freshly closed wounds, reluctantly impressed at how neat Santana's handiwork was. Rolling her shoulders, the blonde cracked the bones in her neck and her back and rubbed at her face as an attempt to wake herself up. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and she cringed at the awful taste in her mouth.

Sighing gratefully at the sight of a glass of water on the bedside table, Quinn reached for the drink and relished the cool liquid as she sipped on it greedily. She was so much thirstier than she thought and she had finished the glass in a matter of a few minutes when she heard the slamming of fists on a table. Santana's frustrated groan followed immediately after and the blonde pulled herself to her feet, trudging towards the door.

Curiosity got the better of Quinn and she paused at the door, pressing her ear against the wood and straining to make out the topic of conversation. She could hear the soft murmuring of Rachel's voice but couldn't make anything out and assumed that the brunette was making an attempt to calm Santana down. Carefully, the blonde gently pushed open the door and peeked outside.

"Santana—she was drunk and half asleep. I don't—you're blowing this out of proportion." Rachel stated softly and from where Quinn stood, she could see the brunette seated at the table with her back turned towards the door.

Santana would appear and disappear from Quinn's scope of view as she paced back and forth in the room. Finally, the Latina dragged a chair out and took a seat in front of Rachel. "I'm not blowing this up, Rach. I saw you with her. I see how you're bouncing around the place and how happy her being here has made you." Rachel tried to cut in but Santana waved her off. "No, listen to me. She hasn't been here for ten years. Ten years, Rachel. I have. H-Her saying that you're her family—it's just cruel. I'm your family and you're mine. I've been there through everything with you and Beth and she can't just waltz in here and take you away from me."

Rachel sighed, her shoulders slumping but Quinn saw her hand reach over to caress the other girl's shoulder. "She's not taking anything away from you, Santana. Beth and I—we're most certainly your family but you have to remember that Beth's her daughter. Quinn loved her. Quinn loved us. A-and I loved her back."

Quinn's heart thumped loudly against her chest, her hands sweaty as she cracked the door open just a little bit more. The fear of being caught was sitting heavily on her shoulders but if there was ever a way to find out Rachel was feeling, it was sitting in front of her right this second.

"Loved?" Santana sneered, her disgust clear. "Admit it to yourself, Berry. You never stopped loving her; you just got better at hiding it."

Exasperated, Rachel through up her hands and glared at the girl sitting across from her. "What do you want me to say, Santana? It's more than a little complicated! Do you know what I did today when I saw her? I thought I was dreaming! I mounted her in _your_ bed!"

"Ugh. I don't—keep that shit to yourself, Rachel." Santana muttered, her hands covering her face.

"She kissed me back, Santana. If she had moved on, if she had stopped loving me—she wouldn't have kissed me back." Rachel admitted and Quinn felt everything in the world stop for just a second as realization hit. It had been over a decade since she had been able to call the short brunette hers and the hope of being with Rachel again was overwhelming the blonde.

"People change, Rach. It's just—It's not always for the better." Santana confessed, reaching for the brunette's large glass of water with a small smirk. "You and drinking water…"

Rachel chuckled, playfully batting at the Latina. "Oh stop! I'm not that bad."

Santana choked on her water, shaking her head in dismay. "Seriously, Berry? Remember when Beth sliced her leg open?"

"Ugh-from climbing that godforsaken tree." Rachel groaned. "I still don't understand what possessed that child to act like a monkey."

"You drank nearly a _gallon_ of water just while I was stitching her up. You've got a problem, Rach. First step to recovery is admitting it." Santana teased, winking as she took another sip.

Shaking her head at the amicable teasing, Rachel tapped Santana's hand absentmindedly. "How did Quinn's stitches end up?"

"As much it pains me to say this, she handled it pretty well. Especially since I didn't use any anesthetic." Santana admitted.

"Santana!" Rachel exclaimed in shock and Quinn could just imagine the look on her face.

"It was just a couple of stitches, Rachel. Besides, we don't have buckets of stuff laying around and I'd rather not use it if I don't have to." Santana defended, crossing her arms and straightening up. "Besides, I gave her the last of the whiskey. It's not like she was completely there when I was stitching her up."

Quinn felt the anger rising up in her chest as the realization of what Santana had done dawned upon her. In the back of her mind, a quieter, more rational voice admitted that Santana was not completely in the wrong. Quinn most likely would have refused the anesthetic even if it had been offered to her. She knew better than most the value in items like those.

"That's still not right, Santana. When I cut my thumb, you nearly emptied a bottle of local anesthetic on my hand before making the first stitch." Rachel grumbled unhappily.

Reaching over and taking the brunette's hand, Santana traced the small scar along the knuckle and smirked. "There's a reason to my madness, Berry. Quinn's tough. She can take a little pain. You would have passed out a hundred times over or drank an entire lake before I'd have finished the _four _stitches you needed."

"And Beth?"

"Oh, come on, Rachel! Beth's a kid and she needed almost eighteen stitches. I couldn't plug her with alcohol and just start working away on her leg!" Santana exclaimed, irritation seeping through her voice. "Besides, what about when Beth accidentally shot through my leg?" Pulling her right leg up, she rolled up the cuff of her cargo pants and pointed at a scar going along the line of her calf. "I stitched _myself_ up and without any anesthetic _or_ alcohol, thank you very much."

Quinn winced at the thought of the feat and felt a bit of nausea creep up at the memory of the immense pain she endured earlier.

"It's not like you didn't drink enough after you finished." Rachel huffed, clearly having lost the argument, and pouted at the glass in front of Santana. "You finished all my water."

"It's not like it's helping you any." The Latina pointed out, shrugging when Rachel glared at her.

Rachel moved in her chair, pulling her feet up and under her. "Mmm-I don't think there's enough water in the world to make this go away."

Santana gulped the last bit of the water, looking at the glass in thought before humming in agreement. "I could make her go away, though. You just need to say the word."

"Santana!" Rachel chided, and Quinn could tell by the girl's tone that she was not even the slightest bit amused. "Quinn's return may not be the most…_easy_ homecoming for any of us but the truth remains that she belongs here….with us. With _all_ of us." Rachel finished pointedly.

"But—" Santana tried again, only to be cut off by Rachel.

"She's home, Santana, and I, for one, intend to keep her here."

Quinn stepped back, her heart pounding fiercely against her ribs and she struggled to breath as she stumbled back to the bed. She collapsed softly on the mattress, tugging a pillow closer to her body as her eyes fluttered closed and a smile tugged on her lips.

"I'm home."

**Please leave your thoughts! I do love getting reviews. They just make my heart happy. -B**


	5. Feel Again

**A/N:**** So I got a 95 on my physics test, a 99 on my anatomy test, and a seven thousand word update for you guys. I do hope you guys enjoy and please, please, please-leave your thoughts. I worked really hard on this one for you guys. :)**

Quinn's eyes fluttered open, squinting at the sunlight streaming through the window and on to her face. Flinging an arm over her eyes, she groaned at the stiffness that had settled in her body. Turning over, she tried to drift off to sleep again, scrunching her face at the thought of leaving the comfort of an actual bed. A boisterous laugh from the kitchen pulled her back from the brink of sleep and Quinn groaned as the noises continued outside her room.

Covering her head with her pillow, Quinn tucked herself away and began to drift off. She was nearly asleep when a soft knock sounded from her door. Her body tensed up so the blonde, wanting to avoid another confrontation with Santana, rolled over and feigned sleep.

Her ears perked at the sound of the door softly creaking open and footsteps padding their way inside the room. Straining to follow the person's movements, Quinn was suddenly overcome by a sweet smell of vanilla wafting over her. Fingertips brushed delicately against her forehead, gently pushing a rogue hair out of Quinn's face. Curiosity proved to be too much for the blonde again, her eyes fluttering open to find Rachel looking warmly at her.

Smiling abashedly, Rachel pulled her hand back and murmured quietly. "I hope I didn't wake you. I just—I had to make sure you were still here and not another figment of my imagination."

"Mmmm. I seem to be quite an active part of your imagination." Quinn teased, returning the smile.

Rachel ducked her head, embarrassment coloring her cheeks, and changed the topic. "How did you sleep?"

"Good. It's been a long time since I've slept in a real bed and I honestly didn't realize how much I missed it." Quinn husked out, stretching her arms and winking in Rachel's direction.

Rachel's face lit up as she laughed and the blonde found her heart skipping at the delightful sound. "What about your stitches? How does your side feel?"

"It's better. A little tight but not so tender anymore." Rolling her eyes, Quinn begrudgingly admitted, "Santana's pretty good at what she does."

"She is, but I'll make sure to keep what you said just between the two of us." Rachel promised with a smirk, her gaze dropping to her hands as she fidgeted next to the blonde. "Could I—Do you mind if I take a look?"

Quinn shrugged, pulling the blanket back and groaning softly as she sat up. Rachel's eyes widened when she realized the blonde was clad only in a sports bra, blushing profusely.

Her shame lasted only a moment as her gaze slowly moved downwards, settling on the small wound on Quinn's front. Her fingers were on the blonde's skin before she even realized what she was doing and her gaze shot up to meet Quinn's when she heard a sharp intake of breath.

Rachel bit her lip in thought before her gaze dropped back down and her hand flattened against Quinn's abs. The wound was suddenly at the back of the brunette's mind as her fingers traced the twitching skin under her hands. Her hand moved upwards, trailing the blonde's ribs, her short nails scratching gently at the porcelain skin.

The tension was thick in the air, both girls breathing heavily as Rachel's hand forged a path over the expanse of Quinn's skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Hazel eyes never wavered from the brunette's face, watching intently. Rachel's eyes followed her own hand, a tongue darting out to wet her lips as her hand inched its way higher up the blonde's body.

"Rach—" Quinn started, when Rachel's fingers collided with the edge of her sports bra, the blonde's face flushed and her breathing erratic.

Rachel jerked back at her name, clambering off the bed, her cheeks tinged a very dark pink and her gaze glued to the floor. "Ah—Breakfast is almost ready and everyone else is awake and I—I know we'd all appreciate it."

With that, the brunette turned on her heel and flew out of the room. Quinn stayed frozen, her mind on overload from what had just transpired in the past few moments.

A clattering from outside shook her out of her trance and the blonde pulled herself out of bed, albeit still dazed from the experience. Reaching over for her shirt, Quinn frowned at the dried blood staining the cloth. Her eyes flitted over to the dresser and she tossed her shirt on the bed in favor of something a little cleaner. Rummaging through the drawers, Quinn pulled out a black tank top and carefully pulled it over her head, so as not to jostle the stitches too much.

Quinn had fallen asleep in her pants and brushed them off half heartedly before dragging her hands through her hair. She had kept it short just out of convenience but it had grown down to her shoulders in the past few months. She tried to tame it the best she could, frowning at the mess of hair. Checking herself in the mirror, Quinn cringed at the reflection, a hand reaching up to touch the dark circles under her eyes.

"What I wouldn't give for a good concealer sometimes…" She muttered, giving up on trying to fix herself and leaving the room.

The kitchen was bustling with activity, surprising Quinn, who stood in the doorway quietly observing. Santana was standing at the counter, grumbling under her breath while messing with an old coffee machine. Rachel was watching the brunette, laughing while she fussed with something in a skillet. The smell wafted over to Quinn and she felt her mouth water and her stomach growl in anticipation. Beth was flitting around the table, setting each place while Brittany worked on carefully cutting the fruit.

Beth was the first to notice Quinn's presence, smiling widely and chirping a good morning greeting. Rachel turned towards the blonde, her eyes warming in her direction and a small smile tugging at her lips. "Go ahead and take a seat, Quinn. Breakfast is just about ready."

Brittany, finishing up with the last of the strawberries, grinned at Quinn and waved. Adding the fruit to a large bowl, she moved to the table to set it down and wiped her hands on her jeans. "Morning, Q."

Quinn mumbled a soft hello in response before clearing her throat. "Uh- Is there anything I can do to help?"

Rachel waved off the Quinn's offer, smiling warmly in her direction. "Everything's finished, Quinn. Just relax."

The blonde, feeling more than a little out of place, took a seat at the edge of the table and thanked Beth when a plate was put in front of her.

Santana, having had succeeded in her battle against the coffee machine, took her own seat at the head of the table and sipped from her mug. Turning her head slightly in Quinn's direction, she gave the blonde a slight nod before turning her attention to Brittany who had circled her arms around the Latina's shoulders and was pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Santana's usual expression melted away as she engaged with Brittany, a hand reaching up to caress the blonde's cheek. The two murmured softly, identical smiles of adoration embellishing their faces.

"Gross, Aunt B." Beth harped, dragging a chair across the floor and taking a seat next to Quinn. "Do you guys always need to be so mushy?"

Raising an eyebrow in Beth's direction, Santana smirked. "Didn't ask you to watch, did we?"

Beth rolled her eyes, looking at Quinn and making a dramatic gesture of vomiting while pointing in Santana's direction. A grape hit the side of Beth's face and she spun around, disbelief and shock written all over face.

Brittany, taking a seat to the right of Santana, shrugged and shook her head at Beth. "Don't look at me."

"Mama!" Beth whined, a pout firmly in place. "Santana's being mean to me!"

"Don't start with me, Baby Berry." Santana teased, eliciting an exaggerated sigh from Rachel who was setting the table with a steaming dish of scrambled eggs and the rest of the bread that was left over from yesterday.

"Both of you need to stop already. Honestly, Santana. Must you goad her every time?" Rachel chided the Latina. When Beth snickered, the short brunette sent her a pointed glare, "You're not off the hook, either, young lady. Both of you will be doing the dishes after breakfast."

Pausing, Rachel turned to Quinn, a sheepish look on her face. "That reminds me, Quinn. I know that it may seem a little…petty, but I was hoping that next time you use any dishes, if you could please rinse them and set them in the sink. I just—I like to keep the clutter to a minimum."

"Just because the world's gone to shit, doesn't mean our house has to do the same, right, Rach?" Santana teased, reaching for the salt and pepper.

The brunette shook her head at Santana's joke, reaching to fill her plate up with fruit. Quinn's cheeks colored as she remembered the bowl she had left out yesterday and nodded hurriedly, an apology falling from her lips.

"Do you want some eggs, Q?" Brittany asked timidly as Rachel took the seat between Quinn and Santana.

"Oh—uh, yeah. Thanks, Brittany." Quinn mumbled, taking the plate from the blonde and adding a small spoonful to her plates.

"Quinn, you need more than that!" Rachel piped up, frowning at the size of Quinn's helping.

"I—I'm not really used to eating this much." Quinn explained, shrugging but taking more food onto her plate, meeting Rachel's pleased gaze and feeling a smile tug at her lips.

Santana, taking a mouthful of bread, sat back in her chair and stretched her arms. "So, plans for today?"

Reaching over to snag a strawberry off of Santana's plate, Brittany shrugged. "I dunno. Summer is over in a couple weeks. We should probably get started on the wood pile."

"And we have that barbed wire you picked up on the last raid that still needs to be put up." Rachel chimed in.

Beth paused momentarily from shoveling food into her mouth and swallowed with a little difficulty before piping up as well. "I thought you said we could go shooting!"

Chuckling, Santana reached for her coffee. "Alright. How about this? B, you and Rachel go ahead and start on the woodpile. We don't need much, but meanwhile I can check the water wheel while you're out. I just want to make it's still holding up."

"And the barbed wire?" Rachel asked again, spreading a thin layer of jam onto a chunk of bread.

Santana scrunched up her face in thought before shrugging. "I'd like to get the water wheel secured with that, I think. If the electricity goes, we're going to be in trouble and the fence has held its own for a while. I'll see if we have enough to set it up here afterwards."

Nodding her head in agreement, Rachel excused herself from the table and went to get herself a cup of coffee.

"Beth, you're going to have to wait on the shooting. I need to have a talk about that with you. _Privately._" Santana added, pointedly glaring in the young girl's direction.

Cringing, Beth shrunk in her seat and nodded. Quinn quirked up an eyebrow in Santana's direction but stayed silent. Rachel returned to the table, setting a mug in front of Quinn before taking her own seat.

"What about Quinn?" Brittany asked good-naturedly, smiling at the blonde.

Santana's hand froze on its way to her mouth and she set the spoonful of eggs down before clearing her throat. "Quinn can just stay home. I don't need her help."

Quinn scoffed angrily, standing up sharply and sending her chair toppling over. "You could just say you don't want me here, Santana."

Santana looked taken aback but rose to her feet and leaned over the table, her words spat out at Quinn. "Fine. I don't want you here."

"Santana!" Brittany gasped, rising to her feet and gripping the girl's arm tightly. "Come with me. I need to talk to you."

Santana jerked her head towards Brittany, defiance shining in her eyes but nodded stiffly when the blonde refused to back down, following her into their room.

Rachel looked up at Quinn, the shock obvious in her eyes and reached for the blonde. "Quinn—"

"I need fresh air." Quinn interrupted, bursting through the front door, humiliated and furious. The crisp air did little to placate the blonde and she paced around the yard, gritting her teeth and clenching her hands into fists in an attempt to stop shaking. Covering her face, she screamed as loud as she could, her hands muffling the noise.

Collapsing on a bench nearby, Quinn rubbed her face harshly, angry with herself for allowing Santana to get to her in the first place. The front door opened and the blonde swiped at her eyes, disgusted at the fact that she was crying over something like this.

Seeing Santana emerge from the cabin caused Quinn's blood to boil and she was immediately on her feet and stalking over to the brunette.

Raising her hands, a rifle in each hand, Santana sneered at Quinn. "I come in peace, Fabray. Britt says I need to blow off some steam and make up with you and I don't do feelings with anyone else but her and Berry when she gets annoying about it, so we're going to go shooting."

"How do I know you're not going to shoot me?" Quinn snapped, venom dripping from her words.

Rolling her eyes, Santana laughed bitterly. "Trust me. If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't still be talking."

Having had enough of the other girl's ego, Quinn took two determined steps and shoved Santana hard. The brunette was caught off guard and was propelled backwards, hitting the ground with a satisfying thud.

The Latina sat up slowly, grunting as she tossed the guns aside. She crouched on the ground, pushing off suddenly and charging towards the blonde. The tackle knocked the wind out of Quinn but she brought a fist down, colliding it with Santana's ribcage just as her back hit the ground.

Pain jolted through her body at the impact with the ground and Quinn gasped for air as Santana rolled off of her, clutching at her own side. "You fucking bitch, Q."

Rolling over, Quinn wheezed loudly but swung her fist in a well-executed hook, her knuckles making a solid connection with Santana's jaw.

The brunette hissed in pain, spitting out blood and grabbing a handful of Quinn's hair, jerking the blonde's head backwards. Not relinquishing her hold, Santana tried to struggle to her feet when the front door opened and Brittany and Rachel rushed out.

Letting go of Quinn, Santana lay back down, her chest rising and falling as she gingerly touched her jawline, wincing at the pain. "Seriously, Tubbers? My fucking face?"

Brittany, mirroring the disapproving look on Rachel's face, tended to Santana. Pulling her up, the blonde tenderly felt her jaw before sitting back, her eyes narrowing as she reached up to flick the brunette's jawbone. "It's not broken, San. Congratulations."

Before Santana could respond, Brittany turned on her heel and made her way back inside the cabin, clearly upset with the other girl.

Rachel was no better, hands tugging at Quinn's top and tracing over the swollen stitches, glaring at the blonde. "None of them are torn, Quinn. Why don't you try harder next time?"

Getting to her feet, Rachel threw a glance in Santana's direction and shook her head, clearly frustrated with her. The door slammed shut behind her and both girls cringed at the sound.

Santana groaned but pulled herself to her feet and trudged over to Quinn, holding out a hand. "Let's go, Fabray. They're not going to let us back in until we get this over with."

Ignoring the outreached hand, Quinn struggled to her feet and snatched up one of the guns. Standing off to the side, she waited for Santana to open up the gate before following the girl out.

Santana spent a considerable amount of time fiddling with the locks on the gate, ensuring that they were all secure before pocketing the bundle of keys. She turned towards Quinn and at the blonde's nod, began to walk.

The path the brunette took was weaving but it was clear that she knew where she was headed. Quinn followed closely, her body on high alert out of habit as her eyes darted around for any suspicious activity.

Nearly twenty minutes later, the brunette arrived at a small clearing. Dropping the bag she was carrying, Santana rummaged through it and pulled out a large red chalk. Shouldering her gun, she marked up a row of trees with large X's. "Okay, let's head over to the other side and set up."

Quinn merely nodded, uninterested in having a conversation with Santana. Once they reached the other end of the clearing, the brunette grabbed a few shells and pocketed them, before pulling out a small brace and tossing it to Quinn. "Here. Your wrist may not be broken but you don't want to fuck it up any more."

Quinn let out a soft scoff, shaking her head at Santana's behavior. Nevertheless, she did put the brace on, not wanting to take any chances. Reaching into the bag, the blonde pulled out a few bullets as well, filling up her pocket and then loading the gun.

"You have shot a rifle, haven't you?" Santana asked while she loaded her gun, sending her a sidelong glance and mumbling under her breath. "Wouldn't want you to blow your hand off or anything."

Rather than answer, Quinn poised her gun and fired at one of the targets, smirking at Santana when the bullet pierced the bark just off the center of the tree. The brunette laughed heartily, genuinely impressed and lifted up her own gun to begin shooting.

They alternated firing at the marks, goading each other with smirks and smug looks. Quinn took a shot and cursed under her breath when she missed the center.

"I taught Beth how to unjam her gun." Santana blurted out, her eyes fixed on Quinn. A deep frown was embedded on the blonde's face as she dropped her gun to her side and turned to face Santana. "It was one of the first things I taught her. But—she's a kid and—it doesn't matter because she was still out alone and she was on the wrong side of the river and—I-I owe you, Quinn. If anything had happened to Beth, I just—I don't know what I would have done. Thank you."

"She's my daughter."

"You didn't know that." Santana pointed out, giving Quinn a look. "It's my job to take care of her and Rachel and Brittany and—"

"Jesus, Santana! What is your issue?" Quinn cried out, throwing her hands up in frustration. "You've got this—like obsession with having to take care of everything and fuck! You're just being a bitch!"

"I'm being a bitch?" Santana growled out. "I'm trying to protect Rachel—"

"Fuck, S! Are you in love with her now? Is that it?" Quinn accused venomously. "Is that why you're always touching her and obsessing over her? Is that why you're so dead set against me staying?"

Santana looked taken aback before promptly dissolving into laughter. "You think—in love with—Berry?!" Clicking the safety on the rifle, the brunette tossed the gun to the side and collapsed on the grass. "Fuck, Quinn. I forgot how funny your stupidity could be."

Rolling her eyes, Quinn set her gun aside and sat next to Santana, sending a wary glance in her direction. "So you're _not_ in love with her?"

The brunette pulled herself up and smirked at Quinn. "I'm not saying that Berry's not fine because, let's face it, I would have to be blind not to admit that she's pretty smoking. But, Quinn, Brittany's mine. And I'm hers. That's the way it's always been and that's the way it's always going to be. Besides, Rachel's yours." Quinn's head swiveled to look at Santana who was sending her a knowing smile. "You guys had dated for all of maybe six months before everything went down and then a year later things went to shit, but you know what? She never got over you. Never even tried, if you asked me. But she didn't want to and who am I to mess with that? Besides, it's not like she's got a line of suitors waiting to sweep her off her feet."

"I—" Quinn started, snapping her mouth shut and trying to comprehend what Santana was telling her.

"Listen, Quinn. I—I've been a bitch, I know. It wasn't your fault that you've been gone but I was there with Rachel when she thought you'd died. I found her maybe a month after what happened and she was just hysterical. Every raid I went on for the first two years, she had me searching for you. But you weren't anywhere and after a while, she stopped asking. Rachel's like my little sister, Quinn. I helped her get through your death. Hell—we all mourned you. Seeing someone go through that kind of thing changes you. We've grown up together and Rachel's part of my family. That means I have to protect her—even if it's from you."

"Santana, I've—"

Holding up a hand, Santana interrupted the blonde. "Save it, Quinn. I grew up with you. I know you. I know how you think."

"What do you mean?" Quinn asked timidly, tearing a few blades of grass.

"Are you going to stay here?"

The question was straightforward but Quinn found herself hesitating to say yes. "I—I've got responsibilities, Santana. The camp—I need to make sure that people are okay."

Santana nodded, clearly unsurprised at the blonde's answer. "I know that. But Rachel and Beth—Quinn, they're under the impression that you're here to stay. I'm not about to let her fall all over herself for you and then have to go through everything all over again when you vanish."

"Maybe I don't have to vanish."

Quirking up an eyebrow, Santana sat up, interested in what Quinn was suggesting. "I'm listening, Q."

"I know where the camp is and we could head back, you and I. I need to know what happened and if my work is still there, I need to get it. After that, I'll come back. For good."

"Right, right. You were some sort of mad scientist, weren't you?" The brunette teased, amicably bumping Quinn with her shoulder.

"Something like that, yeah. I was working on a cure and everything I've ever finished—all my notes, my antibiotics—everything's back there." Looking up at Santana, Quinn shook her head sadly. "I was so close, S. If I can get it back, I can figure out the rest and maybe get this world on the right track."

The brunette grunted in agreement, reaching over for the bag and rummaging through it. Brandishing two water bottles and sandwiches, Santana sat back, tossing Quinn's half to her. "So this camp—it's about three hundred miles out from here, you said?"

Taking a mouthful of the sandwich, Quinn nodded, gulping water to help swallow her massive bite. "Yeah. There were iron gates, soldiers, and a bunker even, in case the place got invaded. But then Wilson got stabbed by a syringe that had a virus and—"

"Then all hell broke loose." Santana finished, popping the last bit of her sandwich in her mouth.

"Basically. He'd been on my tail and I made it out of there but everything I own—everyone I care about—they're all still back there."

"So we'll head back." The brunette stated simply, groaning as she sprawled out in the grass. "At the end of this week, once you're healed."

Quinn's eyes widened and she shook her head vehemently. "No! Jesus! We need to go as soon as possible. I'm heading back tomorrow."

"No, you're not. You're waiting until you heal." Santana repeated, tucking her hands under her head and closing her eyes.

"Santana, those people have been my responsibility for the past ten years and leaving them—abandoning them like I did and then waiting an entire week to go back and check for survivors—to help…what kind of person would I be?"

"Human, Quinn. For once in your life, you'd be human." Santana stated solemnly. "You put everyone in front of you and you're constantly paying for that and sacrificing every thing just to take care of the entire world."

"They're my responsibility!"

"And you're mine!" Santana snapped, her eyes flashing angrily at the blonde. "You're back and fuck it all to hell if you think I'm going to let you put yourself or this family in any more danger."

The silence that followed the brunette's outburst was uncomfortable, both girls actively avoiding the other's gaze. Quinn sighed heavily, reaching up to scrub at her face harshly.

"Santana…Sam is still back there. He's my family just like Rachel is yours." The blonde admitted quietly, her gaze fixed on the trees swaying in the wind.

The brunette was tensed up, her jaw clenched tightly before she huffed loudly and turned towards Quinn. "Fine. We'll go tomorrow but we're not going to storm in there all gung ho and try to play the hero. If it's safe, we'll head inside. If it's not, I'm taking you back home."

Quirking up an eyebrow, Quinn let a smirk play on her lips. "Home, huh? Didn't think you'd let me call that place home that quickly."

Santana sent a mock glare in Quinn's direction before shrugging. "It's not like Berry would have let me get away with that for too long, anyway."

The silence that settled between them was more comfortable this time and Quinn lay back down in the grass, enjoying the feeling of the soft blades tickling her skin. "I really missed you, Santana."

Quinn was unsurprised at the lack of response from the brunette but allowed herself a smile nonetheless. She picked up her head when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eyes and saw a rabbit bouncing into the clearing. "Hey, look—"

The sound of a shot being fired jerked Quinn upright, her eyes wide as she stared at the limp animal. "Oh my god. You did not just do that."

Santana feigned confusion at Quinn's distress, pulling herself to her feet and moving over to pick up her kill, not even bothering to hide her smirk. "What? You see Thumper, I see dinner."

"Jesus." The blonde exhaled, closing her eyes and plopping back down in the grass. "You're just as fucking insane as I remember."

A low groan caught Quinn's attention, her head snapping up as her eyes darted over the shrubbery for the source of the noise. Soundlessly, she pulled herself into a crouching position, her hand reaching for the rifle she had set aside. A soft click from her right let her know that Santana had heard the same noise and was similarly preparing herself.

The Infected came barreling into the clearing from Santana's right, arms outreached and teeth snapping at the brunette. The growl sent shivers through Quinn's body but she raised her rifle without hesitation and took a clean shot at the frenzied woman, the force of the close range shot propelling the Infected's body backwards.

The woman lay twitching on the floor until Santana aimed her gun and fired a round into the Infected's head. Quinn turned her face, her stomach turning at the sight of the shattered skull and brain matter. The tattered clothes did little to cover the body of the Infected, her deep brown skin exposed. She was dirtied and gaunt faced and Quinn knew that the woman probably hadn't eaten in quite some time.

"Fucking zombies." Santana muttered angrily, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand walking over to the blonde, who was knelt by the Infected's side, inspecting the woman's forearm.

"They're not zombies." Quinn mumbled. "They're sick. She hasn't been sick for long, either. She was starving before she got infected. Here's the bite wound right here and it's not even scabbed over." Sighing, the blonde dropped the arm, pulling herself to her feet. "I could have helped her. At least slowed it down and given her a fighting chance."

"Yeah, yeah, Q. Whatever you say. She's still another zombie to me. " Santana rolled her eyes at the blonde, reaching down to pick up the bag and the rabbit she had caught earlier. "Come on. I've got a lot of other things to get done today and Rachel probably thinks I'm out here burying your lifeless body." Pausing, Santana became more somber as she stepped towards the edge of the clearing. "Be careful with Rachel. She's not as strong as she pretends she is and I'd hate to have to beat the shit out of you because you hurt her. So just—take it slow, okay?" Pursuing her lips in thought, Santana squinted at the blonde. "But not too slow. The world has gone to shit and both of you really need to get laid."

Quinn's laugh rang out in the clearing and Santana smirked in response, nudging the girl playfully as they headed back to the cabin.

* * *

As soon as they reached home, Quinn was instructed to lay in bed and rest.

"Unless you want to stay here tomorrow, you're going to keep that skinny white ass in bed." Santana had threatened, her glare a little less effective with the genuine concern dancing in her eyes.

Brittany and Beth had accompanied the brunette on the day's chores, with Rachel naturally deciding to stay home and prepare the rabbit for dinner.

Quinn had stayed in bed for almost an hour before she became antsy. Quietly getting out of the bed, the blonde slipped out of her room and made her way to the kitchen.

Rachel was at the counter, swaying from side to side and singing a song under her breath. Leaning against the doorframe, Quinn crossed her arms and watched the brunette flit around the kitchen. There was crackling coming from a large pot and an aroma of caramelized onions was thick in the air. A large bowl sat on one side of the island, full to the brim with a variety of vegetables.

"You could just help me instead of standing there, Quinn." Rachel murmured, turning around to face the blonde with an amused smile on her face. "Cut these for me?"

Chuckling, Quinn pushed off the doorframe, shyly making her way over to the counter and picking up a knife. Turning her head slightly, the blonde's face scrunched up at the sight of the rabbit meat cubed in a bowl.

Rachel, noticing the look on Quinn's face, burst out laughing, "You don't like rabbit?"

"Not if it's killed in front of me." The blonde mumbled sullenly, pouting at the cucumber as she methodically sliced it. "And what happened to being vegan?"

Resting a hand on her hip, Rachel raised an eyebrow in Quinn's direction. "Where am I supposed to get tofu from nowadays? I'm not saying I'm bounding out of my seat at the prospect of consuming a helpless animal but if I've learned anything from this…" Rachel trailed off, picking up the bowl of meat and shrugging as she dropped them into a large vat. "Better Thumper dead than me."

Quinn scoffed, shaking her head at Rachel's morbid joke. "You've been hanging around Santana too long. That is the exact joke she made earlier when she took poor Thumper out."

Rachel's laugh was loud and genuine bringing a smile to the blonde's face. Gesturing towards the vegetables, the brunette leaned against the island just a few inches away from Quinn. "If you think there's not enough, feel free to go in the back and grab whatever else you'd like."

The brunette's sudden proximity caught Quinn off guard and she stepped back. "You guys have a garden?"

"Yeah, Brittany set it up when we first moved here and it just kept growing. Now, we've got a bunch of fruits and vegetables and it's nice for me because I've got quite the green thumb." Rachel admitted, bumping her hip into Quinn and turning back to the stove.

They worked in silence for a few moments, sounds and smells wafting through the air as Rachel cooked the rabbit. "Excuse me, Quinn—I need to get in here…" Suddenly the brunette's hands were on Quinn's hips and the blonde turned, surprised at the sudden proximity.

Rachel seemed to notice the closeness immediately, a soft exhale hitching in her throat and her hands pulling away from Quinn. Gazes locked, Rachel's tongue darted out to wet her lips as she lowered her hands and gripped the blonde's hips more firmly this time, tugging Quinn's body flush up against her own.

Quinn's hand reached behind her, the knife clattering on the counter and swallowed hard as she brought a hand up to caress Rachel's cheek.

The brunette's eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into the soft touch, her hands moving to the small of Quinn's back and pulling the girl into a hug. Humming softly, Quinn wrapped her arms around Rachel and held her tightly against her. "I've missed you so much, Rach."

She felt more than heard Rachel's watery chuckle, the brunette's words muffled against Quinn's shoulder. "Missed doesn't really seem to cover it for me."

Pulling away, Rachel looked up at Quinn through her eyelashes, her lips parting as she leaned in. The blonde's breath was caught in her throat, finding it difficult to look anywhere but Rachel's lips. The brunette paused, a hairs breadth away from kissing Quinn and hesitated.

And then their lips met in a soft collision, Quinn having closed the distance between them. Their lips slid smoothly against each other, Rachel's hands tangling in the blonde locks and holding Quinn captive against her.

Air was quickly becoming an issue for the blonde and she tore her lips away, breathing raggedly as she slumped against Rachel's body. A sizzling caught the brunette's attention, her head turning to glance at the steam pouring out of the pot on the stove.

Breathing heavily, Rachel pressed a kiss to the corner of Quinn's mouth and told the girl to wait just a second. Turning to the stove, she clicked the gas off, dragging the pot to the side when Quinn's hands snuck their way around her waist and lips nuzzled the nape of her neck.

Shuddering at the sensation, Rachel's hands shook as she scooped the cooked meat into a prepared pastry pan. Quinn's teeth nipped at her earlobe and the ladle clattered against the stove accompanied with an appreciative moan, the brunette's hands grasping the edge of the counter.

Quinn's laugh was husky, vibrating against Rachel's skin. Her face was pressed into the back of the brunette's neck, her hands snaking underneath the hem of the girl's shirt and toying with the waistband of the jeans resting low on Rachel's hips.

The clanging of the gate had both of the girls freezing in their spots but then Rachel's head dropped forward and she let out an anguished groan. "Oh, fuck me."

"That was the plan." Quinn grunted out, smothering a similar feeling, and pulled completely away, turning her attention to the vegetables. Her body was on fire and Quinn pouted, having forgotten the feeling of such intense sexual frustration.

"Don't—just keep that to yourself, Fabray." Rachel bit out, throwing an unamused look in the blonde's direction.

Santana pushed through the cabin door, her eyes sweeping over the kitchen. Noting the blonde's reddened face and Rachel's hands fisted atop the stove, a smirk bloomed on her face and she slid next to the brunette. "What's wrong, Rachel? You seem a little tense."

"Put the fucking pie in the oven, Lopez." Rachel snapped, shooting a glare at the Latina before dropping the spoon into the sink and stalking out of the kitchen, mumbling something about needing a shower.

"I—I think I'm going to go lay down." Quinn muttered, watching Rachel leave, and moved into Brittany and Santana's room, the brunette's howling laughter being the only response.

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair; Santana and Brittany retiring to their room almost immediately after things were cleaned up. Beth followed suit, shyly giving Quinn a hug before disappearing into her room.

Quinn had been offered Rachel's room, with the brunette bunking with Beth in the meantime. The room was similar to Santana's, with pictures of Beth adorning the dresser.

Everything was neatly put away and the bed was made immaculately. Quinn changed into a pair of sweats Brittany had lent her, leaving on the tank top, and slipped underneath the covers. The sweet smell of Rachel assaulted her senses and the blonde breathed in deeply, dragging a hand across the sheets and pulling a pillow against her self.

It had been a long day and Quinn was most certainly ready to sleep, her lids heavy and low. The house was almost completely silent when her door creaked open, someone slipping inside quietly.

The blonde squinted at the shadow, unable to discern the person's identity when her name was whispered from the dark.

"Quinn?" Rachel's voice was low as she neared the bed, careful not to trip over anything.

Leaning over, Quinn flicked on the bedside lamp, peering up at the smiling brunette. "What're you doing here, Rachel? Santana told you to sleep with Beth."

Huffing, Rachel gestured for Quinn to scoot over in bed and climbed underneath the blanket. "Santana's not the boss of me. I can sleep wherever I want to."

Quinn let out a soft chuckle and moved over to ensure that the brunette had enough space. "Okay, but you're taking the blame if she finds you here in the morning."

"She's a big old softy." Rachel murmured, her hand reaching out to take Quinn's. "I missed you. She'll understand."

Closing her eyes, Quinn tightened her grip on Rachel's hand and sighed contentedly when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"What happened here?" Rachel asked, tracing a scar on the inside of the blonde's forearm.

"I scraped it on some glass on a raid. The scar looks a lot worse than the cut was, to be honest." Quinn supplied, watching as Rachel's eyes traced a path down her arm to a small scar on her hand. "That was from a gun about three weeks ago. I fired it and it bit me."

"Guns bite?" Rachel asked, scrunching her nose at the thought.

Chuckling, the blonde nodded. "They do if you're not holding them right when you shoot."

"What about here?" Rachel's fingers traced along Quinn's collarbone and elicited goose bumps over the span of the blonde's skin, smiling at the reaction.

"That was a knife fight."

"And what about this one?" The brunette asked, pointing out a thick scar on her near her shoulder.

Forehead crumpled in thought, Quinn thought hard before giggling quietly. "I fell—out of a tree actually. I hit a branch on the way down and it took a chunk of my arm as payback."

Rachel's jaw dropped and she sat up, climbing on top of Quinn and looking down at her disapprovingly. "You are most certainly your daughter's mother, Quinn Fabray. Beth did the same thing and nearly lost her leg. What is so enticing about those trees?"

"They're just fun to climb."

Rachel's groan of disapproval provoked another husky chuckle from the blonde. "You're so beat up and bruised."

"Well, it's not like you're being returned to me in pristine condition, Berry." Not even bothering to smother her smile, Quinn reached up and ran her fingers down Rachel's arm, relishing in the shudder that ran through the brunette's body. "I heard _you_ nearly lost a thumb."

Scoffing, the tanned woman sat back on her heels, her weight comfortably heavy on Quinn's thighs. "I did, but for no good reason. I cut myself chopping onions."

"Those damn onions. I'll find each and every one of them and avenge you." Quinn teased as she took the opportunity to take Rachel's hands, inspecting both of them and finding a thin scar along her left thumb. "Aha. Here it is." Pulling the hand to her lips, the blonde pressed soft kisses along the thumb.

"I assure you, Quinn. They met a very untimely end. But how do you know about my thumb?" Rachel asked, raising an eyebrow at Quinn as she rolled off of the blonde. "Did Santana tell you?"

Shaking her head, Quinn covered her face with her hands, realizing that she was soon to be found out. When she heard a gasp and felt a smack on her arm, the blonde let a small chuckle escape, one that Rachel mirrored soon after.

"You sneak." Rachel accused amicably, settling into the bed and turning so that she was facing Quinn, her pointer finger inches away from the girl's face. "You were spying on us!"

Raising her eyebrows, the blonde grabbed Rachel's pointing finger, bringing it near her mouth and nipping at the skin. The brunette's eyebrows shot up at the action, worrying her bottom lip as her gaze dropped to Quinn's lips.

"Can I kiss you goodnight?" Her words seemed small, but Quinn was already nodding, leaning in pressing her lips firmly against Rachel's mouth.

Their lips moved more languidly this time, fingers tangling in locks of hair and bodies moving closer together until there was no space to be found between them. Rachel's hand dragged up Quinn's unwounded side, her tongue brushing against the blonde's bottom lip.

Quinn's hands trailed along Rachel's sides, pulling the brunette on top of her. Raking her hands down the tanned girl's back, the blonde cupped Rachel's full ass and squeezed, smirking into the kiss at the brunette's throaty moan.

Rachel pulled away, rolling off of Quinn and smacking the blonde's hand when she felt it snaking up her thigh. "Seriously, Rachel?"

The brunette's laugh was throaty, but she turned into Quinn and tucked herself in the blonde's arms, tangling their legs together and humming happily. "Goodnight, Quinn."

With her arms full of Rachel, her lips tingling, Quinn found a smile tugging at her lips and her heart beating happily. Her eyes fluttered closed, feeling the small puffs of Rachel's breath against her neck, and sighed happily.

"Goodnight."

**Reviews are love! Please leave your thoughts! **

**-B**


	6. My Blood

**A/N: Generally, the title of the chapter is the song I chose to have on repeat as I wrote the part. This chapter was written while listening to Holland Road by Mumford and Sons, especially the flashback, but My Blood by Ellie Goulding was chosen as the title because I felt like it embodies the chapter a little bit better. But for the most moving reading, definitely listen to Holland Road. It'll kind of show you what I was feeling when I wrote this. Sorry it took so long, there's a bit of an explanation at the end of the chapter but for now, enjoy!**

Quinn's eyes fluttered at the small creak inside her room. Years of experience had allowed her to become the lightest of sleepers and it was a skill that she found very handy. Turning her head, she saw Santana lingering near the doorway, a finger pressed to her lips as she gestured for the blonde to get up. Slipping out from underneath Rachel, Quinn padded her way over to Santana.

"Get dressed and meet me outside." The brunette whispered, pressing a pair of jeans and a jacket into Quinn's hands.

The blonde accepted the clothes from Santana, snagging a toothbrush off the dresser before slipping out and heading to the bathroom to get ready.

She was quick to change and freshen up, hurrying outside to find the brunette filling up a large duffle bag with ammo. Santana looked up at Quinn and slid the blonde's handgun across the table, along with a backpack of what she assumed were loaded magazines.

"Where did you get all this stuff?" Quinn asked as she tightened the holster belt on her hips. Checking her gun, she slipped it into the holster and moved to help Santana.

"I've been doing raids for a long time." Santana muttered, zipping up the bag and grunting as she shouldered the strap. "Come on. Last night, I told Brittany we were going hunting for the day and I'd like to get out of here before she wakes up and realizes I lied. There's sandwiches on the counter. Grab them and let's go."

Nodding in agreement, Quinn grabbed her own smaller bag as well as the food and followed Santana out. The two walked around the back of the cabin towards a car shed. Large barrels lined the shed, stacked up on top of one another and surrounding a covered vehicle. Quinn hadn't realized how large the area was, her mouth slightly agape as she watched Santana pull off the tarp. Underneath was a dark green jeep liberty, caked with mud and marred with one or two dents.

"She doesn't look like much but she can take quite a beating." Santana said, tapping the hood of the car. Unlocking the door, the Latina leaned in and pushed a button, opening the gas door. "Go ahead and put your stuff inside. We're going to need to take some extra gas to make the trip there and back."

Quinn moved to the passenger side, opening the door to the backseat and dropping her bag inside. Coming back to where Santana stood siphoning gas from one of the large barrels, the blonde grunted as she lifted the heavy duffle bag, lugging that towards the car as well.

"Quinn, come here and help me for a sec." Santana called, beckoning the blonde. She was standing by one of the metal canisters, holding on to the rubber tube, and gestured for Quinn to set the empty can inside the back of the jeep. Once the top was open, Santana slipped the tube inside of the opening and wiped her hands on her jeans. "Thanks. We'll need about two tanks to pull off this trip, so it better be worth it."

Scoffing, Quinn gestured to the barrels upon barrels of gas Santana had accumulated. "I don't think two tanks is going to kill you, S. You've got almost as much gasoline as we did. How did you even manage to get this much?"

The brunette didn't answer right away; checking inside the canister to gauge how much gas was already inside. "There's an old couple and their grandson about fifty miles southeast from here. The man had acres of land and a refinery on site and managed to brew up pretty decent fuel. I'd hunt for them and bring them packets of meat and other things they needed and they'd give me fuel in return. The old man's passed but the lady keeps on asking for things and making sure that her grandson keeps filling up these barrels with fuel."

Santana bent the tube to stop the flow, pulling the rubber tubing out of the canister and peering inside. "Alright. It's all filled up. Here, you drive this to the gate and I'll open it up for you. Don't get to comfortable though. This is my baby and no one drives it but me." The brunette warned as she tossed the keys to Quinn before wrapping up the tubing and closing the barrel from which she had been siphoning.

Quinn pulled the jeep out of the enclosed yard, parking it and moving to the passenger side while Santana finished locking up the gate. The brunette clambered inside the car, before pulling away and heading towards the camp.

The drive was silent but nowhere near smooth, with neither girl speaking as the sounds of an old CD filled the enclosed space. Quinn sat fidgeting in her seat, pointing out directions every now and again as they traced their way back to the camp.

It took just over five hours for the car to pull up to the torn down gate of Quinn's camp and the blonde gasped at the sight. Chaos was evident and the site was destroyed. Even from where Quinn sat, she could see the collapsed gate, the torn down tents and the flames littering the entire campsite.

"I've been here before." Santana muttered, her brow furrowed in confusion. "When Beth got really sick when she was three—she had such a high fever and nothing could bring it down. Rachel had tried ice baths, medicine. Brittany told me that we needed to get help and so I packed as much gas in the back as I could and drove for days."

Quinn's breath caught in her throat, Santana's words ringing in her ears. "W—what happened?"

"I showed up and there was this guy in the front. He was an ass, lugging around this massive gun and acting like he owned the place. Still, I was so desperate and I practically begged him to help Beth— to just let us in-"

"And what, Santana? What happened?"

Blinking back tears, the Latina chuckled darkly. "He said that he'd be willing to let us in but if Beth had a fever, the containment team would need to take care of her."

"Wilson."

"That douche who's been on your ass? What about him?"

Dropping her head into her hands, Quinn sighed. "Wilson is the one you met. I remember him going around boasting about how some girl got bit and her family tried to sneak her in but he made sure that he kept the camp safe."

"Jesus."

"Yeah." Taking a deep breath, Quinn slumped in her seat as she took in the sight of the camp. "Come on. I really—I don't have the slightest idea on how to deal with that right now."

Reaching back, the blonde grabbed her bag and jumped out of the vehicle. She clicked the safety off and moved around the vehicle to where Santana stood rummaging through the large bag she had lugged around.

Santana pulled out a hefty rifle, raising an eyebrow at Quinn's handgun. "That's all you're carrying?"

"That's all I've ever needed to carry." The blonde retorted, sending a pointed glance towards Santana's rifle, already heading towards the gates.

The silence was disconcerting but Quinn knew that it held an advantage of its own. Straining to hear any sounds, the duo moved through the entrance soundlessly.

Santana tapped the blonde, pointing to an area behind the fallen lookout point and then to her ear. Quinn tilted her head, closing her eyes briefly when the sound of grunting caught her attention. Pulling the hammer back, the two girls moved around the side of the wooden post as quietly as they could.

Two Infecteds, a man and a woman, were caught in the throes of primal sex. Letting out a groan of disgust, Quinn turned her head away, cringing at the scream of ecstasy that the woman let rip from her throat. Santana, harboring a much shorter sense of patience, lifted up her gun and fired two clean shots bringing about a prompt end to the Infected's enjoyment.

"Santana—could you—just go and check the bunker. Go straight and you'll run right into it. I'm going to go and see if I can find any one else." Quinn muttered, her stomach turning at the sight of dead Infecteds still attached to one another.

She moved through the camp, her eyes scanning over the deserted shelter. Glass was strewn across the ground, lifeless bodies of both soldiers and infected corpses littering the floor. Quinn picked her way carefully, crouched low and on alert as she searched for any survivors.

The blonde was grateful at the lack of Infecteds she found but there was a very distinct lack of any survivors that sat heavy on her shoulders. Sighing, she headed over to the bunker, hoping that Santana had managed to free the surviving residents.

Santana was sitting on the door of the bunker, her gun set to the side and her head in her hands. Furrowing her brow, Quinn jogged the remaining distance between them and tugged on the brunette's arm. "The latch sticks. Here, get up and I'll open it. They've got to be ready to come out already."

Quinn grabbed for the handle, hesitating when Santana gripped her wrist gently and shook her head. "It's not worth it, Quinn."

Anger flared through the blonde and she shook off the Latina's hand. "Shut up, Santana. There are people in there!"

"Quinn—I opened it."

Clenching her jaw and trying to remain calm, Quinn took a step back and crossed her arms. "Then where is everyone, Santana? I know you don't expect to take them back with us but you can't just leave them in there!"

"They're dead. Someone—Someone tossed a couple hand grenades or something in there." Santana explained, the sight of the mangled bodies of men, women, and children alike etched into her mind. "They never stood a chance."

Quinn's breathing became shallow, her hand outreached as she collapsed next to Santana. "Fuck."

"Yeah."

Quinn pushed angrily through the tattered remains of what used to be her tent, kicking around the rubble.

Santana stood off to the side, her body tense as her gaze swept over their surroundings. The blonde had pushed off of the bunker's entrance, deciding that the search was a bust and that they grab the research and head home. Unfortunately, Quinn's tent was as mangled and torn up as the rest of them and finding the bag containing her research was much more difficult than it seemed.

Cursing underneath her breath, the blonde dropped to her knees and began to frantically sift through her belongings. She threw around clothes and small trinkets that she had collected through the years but the realization suddenly dawned upon her.

"It's not here." Quinn whispered, the heaviness of what she had lost settling on her shoulders. Dragging herself to her feet, the blonde staggered out of the tent, pushing past Santana. Clenching her hands into tight fists, Quinn tried to breathe through her anger to no avail. Pulling her right arm back, she swung at a wooden post, cracking the wood.

Santana quickly looked around once more before dropping her gun and reaching down for the broken girl. "Quinn. Quinn, you gotta get up. We'll figure out something but right now is not the time."

Dropping her head back, the blonde looked up at Santana, her eyes brimming with tears. "They took everything. _He_ took everything. Sam isn't here, my research is gone—you guys. He kept you guys away from me for so long.."

The brunette pursed her lips, about to speak when Quinn held up a hand, her head tilting to one side as she whispered. "Do you hear that? That's—I think there's someone here." The blonde hurried to her feet, sprinting deeper into the camp following the faint noise, calling out at the top of her lungs.

Reaching the communal housing area, Quinn stopped, straining to hear any semblance of the noise. Santana reached her, angrily pushing the blonde. "We're supposed to be keeping a low fucking profile." Stiffening, she pulled out her gun and raised it slowly. "Don't move, Quinn. We've got company."

Tensing up, Quinn's eyes fell upon a dog looking towards them, her brow furrowing in confusion. Hearing the click of Santana's gun, the blonde realized what was about to take place and pushed the barrel of the gun towards the ground. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"What do you think I'm about to do? That thing is just lying there. It's probably infected." Santana defensively replied, shrugging off Quinn's arm and raising the gun again.

Stepping in front of the brunette, Quinn held up a hand. "Calm the fuck down, S. Dogs and humans don't pass every last virus to one another. I've done the research and this virus doesn't affect dogs. He's harmless. So just—just wait a minute or two."

The Latina gave a short nod in response to the blonde, lowering her gun and stiffly stepping away from the wary animal. Quinn, having held of Santana for the moment, turned towards the dog. "Hey there, big guy."

She moved slowly to where he was sitting when he began to whine insistently. Quinn froze when he pulled himself to his feet, looking at something hidden away before glancing up at the blonde and whining even more persistently. The entire situation sent a chill down Quinn's spine and she lowered her hands, moving more quickly to where he was standing.

Her breath caught in her throat, a strangled name choking past her lips. "Leah."

* * *

"_Quinn! Quinn!"_

_The blonde lifted her head up when she felt a small pair of arms cling to her waist. Reaching down, Quinn lifted the girl up, pressing a fond kiss to the side of the brunette's head. "Hello, Leah. You miss me while I was gone?" _

_The little girl, recently having turned five, giggled and nodded enthusiastically, flinging her arms around Quinn's neck and holding on tightly. The girl's mother stood off to the side, arms crossed and an amused yet apologetic smile on her face. Winking in her direction, Quinn set Leah down, crouching down to her level. _

"_Guess what?" The girl asked eagerly, her hands reaching out to grip Quinn's shoulders. _

_Holding on to Leah's shoulders in a similar fashion, Quinn widened her eyes and asked with the utmost seriousness. "Chicken butt?" The young brunette dissolved into giggles but shook her head in the negative. Scrunching her face, Quinn then shrugged, admitting her defeat. "You got me, Leah. I'm all out of guesses." _

"_I thought you were supposed to be smart, Quinn." Leah said, resting her small hands on her hips and scrutinizing the blonde, a smile playing on her lips as she shook her head condescendingly._

_Laughing genuinely, Quinn pulled the little girl into another hug. "You're lucky I like you, kid. I don't let everyone talk to me like that. So tell me? What's up?"_

_Unable to contain her excitement any longer, the girl broke out into a grin. "I taught Atticus a new trick!"_

"_Did you now?" Eyebrows shooting up, Quinn shifted her body and sat on the ground, turning her head to look at the aforementioned dog standing loyally behind Leah. He was an Australian Shepherd, one of the puppies a breeder had demanded they bring along when she was saved. Tests had been done to thoroughly ensure the dogs' immunity to the disease before they were passed out to the residents of the camp._

_He was largely white, his black and grey markings standing out distinctly on his coat. Coupled with a pair of icy blue eyes, it was no doubt that he was the most gorgeous and striking dog Quinn had ever seen. But he did not trust easily and most found that trait undesirable. Enter Leah who had met Atticus when he was at a tender age of five months. _

_He had been immediately drawn to the young girl and together the two had formed an unbreakable bond. Leah's mother was not so thrilled about the prospect of the dog but when an Infected managed to break loose inside the camp, lunging hungrily for the young brunette, it had been Atticus who had leaped over his pen to save the girl. _

_The dog, thought to be afraid of everything and good for nothing, stood in between Leah and the Infected, snarling and snapping. Atticus counteracted each lunge the Infected man made, launching himself on top of the Infected and ripping into his arm. Leah's mother quickly snatched the three-year-old up and Atticus refused to let the man up until Wilson had arrived, immediately seeking out Leah once he was free. _

_It had been two years since he had saved Leah's life but Atticus was still glued to her side, happily following the girl around wherever she went._

"_Come say hi, Atticus!" Leah lovingly commanded, the dog's ears perking up at his name. He padded over, brushing against Leah's side before pressing up against Quinn. Nuzzling the blonde's face, Atticus pulled back and licked her chin, groaning in content when she reached up to scratch behind his ears. Leah stood watching happily. "He likes you almost as much as me, Quinn." _

_Quinn looked up at Leah, pulling the girl into her and laughing with her when Atticus showered the brunette with kisses. "He could never love anyone as much as you, Leah. So this new trick?" _

"_Oh, right!" The girl stood eagerly and delved into her pockets, pulling out a small meat stick, the scent of which caught Atticus's attention immediately. He sat in front of Leah obediently; soft whines escaping as his eyes focused in on the treat the young brunette held. Leah turned to look at Quinn, ensuring that the blonde was indeed watching her before holding out her hand and pretending to shoot Atticus. "Bang, bang!" _

_On cue, Atticus dropped to the ground, rolling over to his side and staying there until Leah excitedly said, "Now, come back to life!" The dog flew to his feet, carefully taking the treat from the girl. _

_Quinn watched on, smiling widely as Leah threw her arms around Atticus's neck, knowing that Leah was the best thing to happen to that dog and that the dog was the same for her._

* * *

It had been just over a month since that day, and Quinn felt her heart break as she recalled the life that used to fill the young brunette. There was a single gunshot through the girl's ribcage, her skin a pallid color. Despite knowing it in the back of her mind, Quinn reached out to press two fingers against the girl's neck in search of a heartbeat. Her head dropped at the lack of a pulse she pulled back, turning towards the whining animal.

"Oh, Atticus." Quinn whispered, dropping to her knees near the dog. Atticus, throwing wary glances in Santana's direction, moved towards Quinn immediately. Sniffing her outreached hand, he groaned happily and pressed into blonde's body. Quinn ran her hands over his head, cooing into his fur. "You're okay. You're okay, now. I got you."

The tears were stinging and Quinn pulled herself to her feet, pushing past the brunette towards a nearby shed. Holstering her gun, the blonde pulled out a shovel and moved purposely towards the spot where Leah lay.

Swiping angrily at the tears that were now falling down her cheeks, Quinn began digging a hole nearby, chucking the dirt into a pile. Santana, watching the girl quickly exhaust herself, moving slowly over to the blonde. "What're you doing, Q? We don't have time."

Turning angrily on the brunette, Quinn jammed a finger into the girl's shoulder. "I'm digging a fucking grave for a five year old girl, Santana! If any one was supposed to have time, it was supposed to be her! So, you can either help me or sit down and shut up!"

Santana put her hands up, backing away from the girl and kneeling down to set her gun on the ground. Quinn went back to shoveling, her arms increasingly aching as she made progress. The blonde paused when Santana reappeared, a shovel in her hands.

They dug in silence, the small hole finished in a little over fifteen minutes. Santana leaned on the shovel, watching as Quinn gently scooped up Leah's lifeless body before placing it in the crudely dug grave.

A small soft escaped the blonde but she quickly shook the sadness off, ignoring Atticus's frantic whines as she filled the grave back up. When the grave was halfway full, Atticus pulled himself to his feet and began to circle the grave, barking anxiously as Leah disappeared. A few minutes later, the dog dropped next to the makeshift grave, exhaustion dragging the animal's body to the ground.

The small mound of dirt caused Quinn's stomach to turn, the tears making their way down her cheeks. Santana, noticing the slight swaying of the blonde, moved quickly over to her side, slipping an arm around Quinn's waist and holding the girl up. "It's okay, Q."

The Latina held her until the sobs quieted, murmuring softly as she stroked the blonde's hair. Pulling back, Quinn rubbed at her face, sighing deeply as she pulled herself to her feet. "We should head back before it gets too late."

Santana nodded, picking up her gun and pausing when she saw Quinn lift up the feeble dog. "Whoa, there, Q. We are not bringing him."

Quinn shook her head, not even sparing Santana a glance. "I am not leaving him out here to die, Santana."

The brunette sighed, knowing there was no arguing with the girl and watched her walk away with Atticus spilling from her arms before jogging behind her. "He's not allowed in the front, Quinn!"

* * *

The ride back was exhausting. Santana handed Quinn a sandwich about an hour into the drive, biting into her own. "There are chips in the bag and some water bottles, too."

Quinn nodded, turning in her seat and tearing her sandwich into small pieces. "Here, buddy. You need to get some food in you."

Atticus reached forward, gently taking the bite-sized pieces from Quinn's outreached hand.

"Quinn, are you serious?! He's going to get crumbs in the car!" Santana snapped, glaring at the blonde.

"Shut up, Santana. He probably hasn't eaten since the attack. I know what it's like to be hungry." Quinn angrily muttered, giving Atticus the last bit of her food. A sandwich was dropped in her hands, a single bite taken out of the corner.

"I'm not hungry anymore." The brunette supplied, keeping her eyes on the road and popping a chip in her mouth.

Smothering a smile, Quinn held out the sandwich to Atticus who gladly accepted the food. Groaning with satisfaction after the last bite, he turned on his side and closed his eyes, slowly falling asleep. The blonde sat up straight in her seat, taking the bottle of water and sipping from it slowly.

"He snores, Q. He's not sleeping in my room." Santana joked,

"Why didn't you ever come back to the camp?" Quinn asked, turning to face Santana. "I mean, Beth got better and without a fever, no one would have stopped you from coming into the camp."

Sighing, Santana dragged a hand through her hair. "I thought about it. A lot, actually. But the thing is that that man threatened to kill a child. Beth was three years old and Wilson wanted to kill her. Kids get sick—I didn't want to put her in a situation where a fever was going to get her killed."

"I could have protected you!" Quinn whispered, anguish clear in her tone.

The brunette clenched the wheel, worrying her bottom lip. "How was I supposed to know you were there? There were no signs, no flashing lights. If I knew, don't you think that I would have gotten to you?"

"But—"

"But nothing, Quinn! It was an entire year after I had stopped looking for you." Santana exclaimed, throwing a hand up in exasperation. "I'm sorry, okay? If he wasn't such an ass, I might have come back but I needed to keep them safe. Brittany, Beth, Rachel—they were and still are my responsibility. I couldn't take a chance."

Quinn turned and rested her head on the window, curling up on the seat. "I know. It just blows."

The sun had set nearly three hours ago as they reached the gates of the cabin, Santana hopped out of the driver's seat to undo all the locks before pulling the jeep in. As the brunette slipped out of the seat to lock up, Quinn took her place and eased the jeep back into the car shed.

Slipping out of the car, the blonde opened the passenger door, smiling softly at Atticus and his soft whines. Lifting him up, Quinn kicked the door shut and headed towards the front door.

"-hell have you been?"

Hesitating, Quinn's mouth pulled into a deep frown at the sound of Rachel's voice.

Santana had her back to the brunette, fussing with the locks before turning and smirking at her. "I told you. Hunting."

"My ass, Santana! You took the jeep and it's nearly eleven o'clock at night! Where'd the fuck you go?"

"We went back to the camp." Quinn blurted, stepping into view.

Rachel turned on her heel immediately, a sharp retort dying on her lips when she saw Atticus spilling from her arms. "What the hell is that?" Holding up a hand when Quinn tried to respond, she took a deep breath, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Both of you, inside. Now."

Without waiting for an answer, Quinn fell in step behind the brunette. Stepping inside, the blonde knelt down, letting Atticus find his own footing. "He needs food—he ate a little while ago but—"

"Is that for me?!" Beth whispered incredulously, creeping into the room, her eyes never wavering from Atticus. The dog's ears were pressed back against his head, his body rigid as he looked around nervously with wide eyes.

"Carefully, Beth." Brittany advised, stepping into the kitchen from her room. "He's scared." The blonde knelt down, gesturing for Beth to do the same. "Now hold out your hand and let him decide to come over to you."

Atticus swung his head to the left to look at Quinn but crept towards the two kneeling blondes. He sniffed Beth's hand, licking it once before sniffing Brittany's. Standing still for just a few seconds, he allowed the blondes to scratch at his head before trotting back towards Quinn and sitting at his feet.

"Here." Rachel said, pressing a bowl into Quinn's hands. "Give this to him and then meet me in my room. I need to have a conversation with you." Santana reached out and touched the brunette's shoulder only to have her hand brushed off. "I will talk to you tomorrow, Santana, but honestly? I expected more from you."

Quinn pursed her lips as she watched the girl walk away, knowing she was in trouble with Rachel, crouching down to place the bowl of browned meat in front of Atticus. The dog looked up warily at everyone else in the room and Quinn smiled sheepishly at Beth. "He's a little shy. Can you give him some space tonight?"

"What's his name? Is he mine? Can he sleep with me in my room?" Beth asked excitedly, her eyes shining as she watched the animal nibble at the ground meat.

"Atticus, and I don't know, Beth. I'll tell you all about him tomorrow, though and you should probably let him get used to all of the changes first. I've got to get some rest and talk to Rachel and you should head to bed, too.." Quinn answered Beth, nodding at Santana and Brittany as they disappeared into their room.

Santana lingered in the doorway, turning back to glare at Quinn and the blonde rolled her eyes. The Latina would be sure to share some choice words with her tomorrow but Quinn had more urgent concerns at the moment. Instructing Beth to give Atticus a bowl of fresh water and then head straight to bed, the blonde headed towards Rachel's room, ignoring the clammy feeling in her hands.

Knocking quietly, Quinn entered the room, her eyes averted from Rachel's gaze. The brunette was moving around the room silently, already changed into a pair of baggy sweats and pulling the covers back.

Quinn walked towards the bed, gingerly taking a seat on the edge. Her side was aching and she was both emotionally and physically exhausted. Reaching down to undo the laces on her boots, the blonde tiredly tugged them off.

"Are your stitches holding up?"

Starting at Rachel's question, Quinn stammered apprehensively before simply nodding in the brunette's direction.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was?" The blonde turned to look at Rachel who was standing with her hands on her hips and a disapproving look on her face. Quinn opened her mouth but was interrupted immediately. "Every time someone walks out of that house, I have to quell that voice inside my head that is screaming at me and telling me that they might not come home."

"I'm sorry—"

"No. You don't get to do that. You and Santana just up and left and not just for a couple hours, but an entire day! And then you come back and tell me that you went back to your camp! What do you expect me to feel? You went to the same place you said was crawling with zombies—infected—whatever they are. You just—are you bent on getting yourself killed? Quinn—" Rachel stopped in the middle of her sentence, pressing two fingers to her right temple. "You've given me a fucking migraine."

"I had to do that, Rachel. My supplies, my research—" Quinn tried, reaching out to the girl only to be ignored as Rachel paced in front of her.

"What about Beth? What about—damn it, Quinn. What about me? Did you even think about what would happen to me if you got hurt?" Dragging a hand through her locks, Rachel sighed and slumped on to the bed next to Quinn. "I swear—you're just as obstinate as you were ten years ago."

"It was Sam." The blonde whispered, dropping her head against the bed frame. "I had to go back for Sam."

"I don't know if you noticed but you came back with a dog, not Sam." Rachel stated, sending a disapproving glance in the direction of the kitchen. "A dog who's going to get fur _everywhere_."

"I knew his owner, okay?." Quinn said, pulling Rachel towards her. The brunette was reluctant at first, finally giving in and curling up against the blonde's side. "She was a little girl named Leah, and she had the most gorgeous brown eyes I've ever seen. Atticus used to follow her around and do her every bidding. I couldn't leave him out there alone to fend for himself."

"Is she—What about Sam?"

Quinn nodded, stroking Rachel's hair and letting out a shaky breath. "Yeah. They all are. Wilson completely destroyed the camp."

"I'm so sorry." Rachel breathed out, her hand trailing down Quinn's arm. "You really scared me today, Quinn. I—I just got you back and you're already disappearing on me."

"Rachel—"

"No, don't. I don't want to hear anymore. Not tonight at least." Rachel said, wiggling around so that she could slide under the cover without getting up.

Quinn let out a breathy chuckle before getting up and changing into something a little more comfortable. Exhaustion was settling in the blonde's body and she climbed into the bed, tugging on the blanket as she got settled. "What about Atticus?"

There was silence for almost a minute and Quinn opened her mouth to repeat the question when Rachel hummed in response. "He can stay but just because he's cute and _you're_ the one in charge of walking him and cleaning up after him."

"Thanks, Rach." Quinn breathed out, her smile evident in her tone. "Goodnight."

"Mmmhmm. You owe me."

**A/N: Sorry, folks! I'm in the midst of test after test and a three year anniversary to celebrate. I've been slightly overwhelmed and I was actually just reminded by someone that I had forgotten to update and I truly apologize for the delay. I do hope you guys enjoyed this part. Interesting tidbit. Atticus is based off of my own dog. You can click on the link I'll be posting on my bio page that takes you to a tag on my tumblr of him. His behavior, his description, his actions-it's all Romeo. I do hope you take the time to look because he's really a stunning and sweetheart of a dog. **

**Leave your thoughts. You know how they make my heart swell! -B**


	7. Catch My Breath

**A/N:**** I apologize for the random update schedule. I'm in the midst of University applications, finals, tests, and essays. I'll be finished with the semester (and all this nonsense) in the first week of December. Bear with me. After Dec. 10, I'm going to make sure I get back on regular updates. **

The light filtered inside the room and Quinn groaned out. Her eyes fluttered open to meet Rachel's, watching on amusedly.

"Morning, sunshine." Rachel murmured good-naturedly, reaching out to push a tendril of hair out of Quinn's face.

"Is this a new thing?" The blonde asked, yawning loudly.

"Hmmm?" Rachel pulled back, a soft smile playing at her lips. "What do you mean?"

The blonde turned over onto her back, stretching her arms above her head. A soft whine escaped as her joints cracked and sleep left her body. Sinking back into the mattress, Quinn chuckled. "This whole staring at me while I sleep." Cracking open an eye, she smiled at the brunette. "Does this mean I'm not in trouble for last night?"

Rachel's eyebrows shot up and she pursed her lips to the side while in thought. "Oh, no. You're still in trouble." Rolling her shoulders back, the brunette bounced out of bed. Leaning against the doorframe, she paused, "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're safe. I'm just not so glad that you didn't talk to me before you left. Make the bed when you get up. You're on my shit list, Fabray, and you've got some major sucking up to do."

Quinn dropped her head back, the bliss of waking up next to Rachel waning. The blonde had hoped that in light of the morning, she would have been forgiven but the brunette seemed to be reluctant to let this go.

"Quinn. Come take your dog out. I swear to God, if he has an accident, I will not be cleaning it up. Get out here, now." Rachel called, her tone clipped and succinct, and Quinn could just imagine the disdain on her face.

Smothering her face with her hands, Quinn groaned and dragged herself to her feet, trudging towards the kitchen. Propping open the door, she smiled at Atticus, whose ears perked up at the sight of her. He pulled himself up, lumbering in her direction. Quinn crouched down and scratched behind the dog's ears, chuckling as he licked her face.

A clinking of chain links caught her attention and she looked up to see Rachel holding up a collar. "Brittany and Beth pulled out one of the boxes from storage. There were a few dog supplies but if we're going to be keeping him, I suppose you and Santana will have to get more from during the next run."

Quirking up an eyebrow, Quinn pulled herself up to her feet and took the collar from Rachel's hands. "We're?"

"You're." Rachel corrected, turning towards the fridge and rummaging through one of the drawers.

Sauntering over to where Rachel stood, the blonde grinned. "No, you said if _we're_ going to be keeping him."

Narrowing her eyes, Rachel huffed. "You must have heard me wrong. I assure you, Quinn, I did not."

Smothering a smile, Quinn inspected the collar. It was lightweight, simple yet elegant. Kneeling down, she called Atticus over who pushed his head against her arm, readily accepting the collar. "Say what you will but he is one adorable puppy, Rach."

The brunette scoffed, rolling her eyes and setting a bowl on the counter but not denying Quinn's statement. "He hasn't eaten breakfast yet."

Reaching up, Quinn grabbed the bowl and set it down in front of Atticus. The dog sniffed the food but padded over to the front door and whined. The blonde stood up and opened the front door, chuckling as Atticus slipped through the crack and bounded outside.

Taking one last look to make sure he was fine; Quinn shut the door and made her way to where Rachel was now washing the dishes. "Where's everyone else?"

"Out. They'll be back for dinner, but they've got quite a bit to get through today because of your impromptu field trip. I told them that you needed to rest and that I'd find some use for you around here." Rachel answered, keeping her gaze trained on her task. "Before we get started, you should eat breakfast, too. There's cereal on top of the fridge and instant milk in the cabinet next to it."

Quirking up an eyebrow, Quinn ran a hand across the small of the brunette's back as she walked by, smothering a laugh at the hitch in Rachel's breath. The blonde turned back, cereal in hand when she was handed a bowl. "Uh—thanks. What about your breakfast?"

"I ate with everyone else." Rachel answered, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, before resuming her work. "You slept incredibly soundly last night. You must have been tired."

"Huh. I guess I was. I don't usually sleep deeply." Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the blonde set to work on her breakfast. The powdered milk was easy to prepare and Quinn topped off her bowl with a pile of some generic cereal. The taste was slightly off-putting, sweetening the cereal a little too much for Quinn but she finished the bowl, taking it back to where Rachel stood drying the last dish.

The brunette raised an eyebrow at the bowl but took it from Quinn and rinsed it out, nonetheless. Sliding her arms around Rachel's waist, the blonde pressed her lips against the nape of the girl's neck.

"Stop it, Quinn. I—I'm not in the mood." Rachel murmured unconvincingly, turning the tap off and gripping the counter for support.

"No one else is here, Rach. This is our chance." Leaning over to brush her lips against the shell of her ear, Quinn whispered huskily. "Let me _take care_ of you."

"I'm still upset with you. After last night, you can hardly expect for me to just fall into bed with you. Stop." Rachel asserted, turning her head slightly to glance back at Quinn.

Sighing disappointedly, Quinn dropped her head back and let her hands fall from Rachel's hips. "Yeah—you're right. I'm sorry. I'm going to take Atticus out for a walk and then maybe you can tell me how to help around the house."

Turning on her heel, Rachel grabbed Quinn's wrist before she could walk away, capturing the blonde's lips. They fell into a familiar rhythm, the brunette's tongue darting out to deepen the kiss almost immediately.

Rachel cupped the blonde's cheeks, causing Quinn to jerk back and wipe soapy water from her brunette tried unsuccessfully to stifle a chuckle, apologizing insincerely. Patting her hands on her sweats, Rachel turned her gaze back to Quinn and reached out to pull her back in. Quinn grasped at Rachel's hips, pressing her lips firmly against the brunette's. Holding on tightly and pulling the girl flush against her, the blonde deepened the kiss, a hand shooting out and fumbling for something to stabilize her.

Rachel's hands were not idle, making their way up Quinn's back and disappearing in the long golden locks. Tugging backwards on the blonde's hair, Rachel broke the kiss and exposed the supple skin of the girl's neck. She pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses against the porcelain skin, repeatedly dragging her tongue over the blonde's pulse point.

Relishing the moans elicited from Quinn, Rachel was thoroughly pleased at the control she yielded. Still, the throbbing between her legs was rather intense and the brunette whined into Quinn's skin at the thought of what was to come. A tugging at her waist broke her concentration and she looked down to find Quinn hard at loosening the strings on Rachel's sweats.

Having made enough room, Quinn, seeking instant gratification, delved her free hand inside the sweats and cupped the firm curve of Rachel's backside. The brunette's eyebrow shot up in surprise, her eyes wide but fluttering closed when Quinn leaned down to fuse their lips together.

Rachel tore her lips away, burrowing her face into Quinn's neck and letting out a throaty moan when she felt the blonde squeeze firmly. Frustrated with the amount of clothing still on, Rachel gripped the hem of the blonde's shirt, tugging upwards with a sense of urgency.

Quinn groaned disapprovingly, but lifted her arms up immediately so that Rachel could pull of the tank top that she had been wearing. Tossing the clothing off to the side, Rachel pulled back and let her eyes roam over the blonde's flushed skin. Feeling breathless and lightheaded, she leaned against Quinn for support and reveled in the feeling of her skin.

Dragging a hand through her own mussed up hair, Quinn leaned over to press a kiss on the brunette's forehead and wrapped her arms around her tightly. "Let's go back to your room. I've waited so long for this—I just—I want to make sure we do this right."

Rachel nodded eagerly, surging forward to meet Quinn's lips once more. The brunette's hands refused to stay still, however, constantly dragging and tracing over the freshly exposed skin.

Quinn chuckled into the kiss at the girl's eagerness but her breath hitched when she felt Rachel's nails rake down the curvature of her spine. Taking hold of the brunette's waist, she maneuvered her way around the cabin rather successfully, pressing sporadic kisses against Rachel's face.

Not too fond of having to multitask while paying homage to Quinn's body, Rachel groaned unhappily and shoved the blonde up against her bedroom door, their lips colliding together.

Quinn's eyes shot open as pain jolted through her side, tears stinging her eyes as she dropped her head back and gasped in shock. The door handle had jabbed into her side and it was all Quinn could do to keep from crying out in pain. Tears squeezed past her clenched eyes, Rachel's apologies falling on deaf ears.

Slowly, the pain ebbed away to a deep throbbing sensation and Quinn's eyes fluttered open. Rachel's face was pale, her gaze focused on her the blonde, her chest rising and falling sporadically. The brunette swallowed difficultly, her eyes rising up to meet Quinn's. "What just happened?"

Blinking back surprise at finding herself on the floor, the blonde's face contorted in confusion and she shook her head, reaching a hand out to Rachel. "I—I'm not sure. I think the handle got me pretty good. Could—just help me up, please?"

The blonde pushed herself up, her face twisting in pain as the dull throbbing transformed into a sharp stabbing pain. Gasping in shock, Quinn scrambled to grab hold of Rachel's shoulders and leaned heavily on the girl. "My stitches—Rachel. I—I think they tore."

Rachel's eyes were wide in panic but she gingerly traced a hand along Quinn's wounded side, swaying backwards when she pulled her arm back. The blonde looked down at Rachel's hand, frozen midair, and gasped at the blood coating her fingers. "I—I need to lie down."

The brunette looked no better, all blood having drained from her face. They lumbered towards the bed, Rachel keeping an arm tightly around Quinn. She helped the blonde ease onto the mattress, waving away Quinn's worries about the blood seeping through the covers, and hurried to the medicine cabinet.

Returning quickly, a large glass of water in one hand and the first aid kit in the other, Rachel knelt by the bed. "Now, Quinn, keep in mind that I do not possess the talent for this that Santana does." Pressing a cold compress to the blonde's forehead, Rachel dampened a cloth with a generous amount of local anesthetic, applying it firmly to the frayed edges of skin. "This should help with the pain."

Quinn opened her eyes blearily, her hand weakly trying to push away the anesthetics. "I don't…emergencies—only…Santana's going to be—mad."

Leveling the blonde with a stern glare, Rachel's lips formed a tight frown. "This _is_ an emergency, Quinn. You've torn your stitches wide open and the only person who can stitch you back together is about five hours away from coming home." Keeping a hand securely on the cloth against Quinn's side, Rachel reached up with her free hand and brushed some of the blonde's hair out of her face. "If Santana has a problem with it, she'll need to take it up with me. How's the pain?"

"Better," Quinn rasped out and Rachel noted some color returning to the blonde's cheeks. Sitting back on her calves, the brunette reached for the large glass and took long gulps until the glass was nearly finished. Breathing heavily, she set the glass next to her, her gaze meeting Quinn's weak smile. "Still haven't kicked the…the water habit, huh, Rach?"

Rachel rolled her eyes at the jab, gingerly peeling back the towel and grimacing. The stitches on Quinn's front had held but the ones near her back had nearly all been viciously torn open. The skin was frayed at the edges, a bluish green bruise surrounding the area. Rachel felt lightheaded at the blood still seeping gradually from the wound and she fumbled for her glass. "I'm going to need more water." Gulping the last bits of the water, Rachel dropped her head back and let out a deep breath. "Okay, Berry…you've got this."

Reaching for the antibacterial spray, Rachel gingerly wiped the blonde's skin thankful for the numbness that the anesthetic had supplied. Quinn's eyes were closed, her chest rising and falling at an even pace as Rachel continued to work on cleaning the cut. Sighing unhappily at the gaping wound that she had essentially caused, Rachel doused a clean cloth with more anesthetic and wrapped it around the injury site. Pulling herself to her feet, the brunette trudged to the bathroom, dropping the blood soaked towel in the tub and rinsing her hands thoroughly.

Returning to the room, Rachel leaned against the doorframe, her eyes downcast. Quinn lay still in the bed and the brunette moved quietly in the room, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. "I'm so sorry."

A soft scoff pulled Rachel's attention towards Quinn, who was smiling softly in her direction. "Guess no one wants us to get it on."

Rachel let out a small chuckle, shaking her head and reaching out to stroke Quinn's calf. "_That_ is not what I'm sorry about. Well, I suppose if I had just been able to keep my libido under control, this wouldn't have happened, so I am sorry for that as well." Dragging a hand through her hair, the brunette sighed. "Do you think—Don't you feel like we're going about this the wrong way?"

"What—what do you mean?" Forehead crumpling in confusion, Quinn struggled to sit up straighter only to slump back into the pillow. "Don't you want to be together, Rachel?"

"I do! I just—I feel like what we're doing is wrong. It's been ten years, Quinn. I don't even know you anymore." Rachel admitted, keeping her eyes trained on her lap. She fidgeted with a loose thread on her clothing for a few seconds before throwing her hands up in frustration. "I love you. I—I know that's true, but I'm just not entirely sure who I'm in love with. The person you are—so calloused and independent—it's not who I fell in love with."

"Quinn, I—I need you to listen." Chancing a glance at Quinn, Rachel immediately looked away, her heart aching at the pain in the hazel eyes. "What we had was beautiful. What we can have has that same potential. I can't be the only one who feels like thrusting ourselves into this relationship—acting like the last ten years haven't happened—that we are the same seventeen year-old lovers—it's not going to get us anywhere, Quinn."

Rachel swallowed hard, knowing that Quinn deserved to be told this face to face, and slipped off her bed, kneeling on the floor near Quinn and grasping for the blonde's hand. "We are different people. Ten years ago, I was your soul mate. We were so madly and deeply in love—Quinn, please—I want that again. I want to know you better than you know yourself. I want to know what's going on in that head of yours." Pausing to compose herself, Rachel wiped at her eyes with her sleeve, a wistful smile on her face. "Quinn Fabray, I have no doubt that you are still my soul mate. I am one hundred percent certain that you and I belong together, which is why I want to do this right."

"I understand—Rachel. I get it." Quinn whispered, her head still turned away from the brunette. Pulling her hand out of Rachel's, the blonde pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping to quell the tears. The brunette could see the tears making their way down the porcelain skin and a part of her chided herself for even bringing this up. Quinn, keeping her gaze downcast and away from Rachel, continued, her voice muffled by the blanket that she had tugged up to cover her face. "I've missed you. I—this world isn't giving us an abundance of time, Rachel. I just happen to think that we should make the most out of it."

Closing her eyes and stifling the irritation boiling inside her, Rachel inhaled sharply. She had not expected the blonde to take this well but the childish behavior that Quinn was displaying was testing her last nerve. Snapping at the girl, Rachel threw up her hands in exasperation, her tone sharp and unforgiving. "I don't know what to tell you, Quinn! I have not been the same for the past ten years. I have not been innocent, or truthful, or kind. I have pilfered, killed, anddone so many other things just to survive. I haven't been even been celibate! I'm not naïve enough to think that you're the same person that I knew from before and I don't know why you're so dead set against realizing that I am not the Rachel Berry that you remember."" Clenching her jaw, hoping to control some of her anger, Rachel breathed deeply for a few seconds before continuing.

Speaking more calmly, the brunette tried again to make the blonde see her point. "Regardless of that, I have not for a single moment of my life forgotten about you or ceased to love you. Quinn—look at me." Rachel waited as Quinn jutted out her jaw, turning her face slightly further away from the brunette. "Quinn Fabray, if you think for one second that this bullshit you're pulling is going to be fine with me, you're very sorely mistaken. If you wish to continue this topic, you'll have to man up and at least look at me. If not, this discussion is over."

The brunette raised up an eyebrow as she crossed her arms and waited for Quinn to cave. Several minutes passed, the tension thick in the room. Finally, she heard the blonde exhale loudly and turn her face towards the brunette. Smiling gratefully, Rachel reached for Quinn's free hand, trying not to react when the girl pulled it out of her reach. Though her smile faltered, Rachel recovered smoothly. "As I was saying, I am as dedicated to you now as before which is why I refuse to lose you to something like this. I want to know everything about you. I want you to know everything about me. I want to fill this ten year gap between us before we—"

"Was it Santana?" The blonde interrupted, her gaze finally meeting Rachel's. At the brunette's nod, Quinn pursed her lips before letting out a long sigh. "I—It's fine. Just…how did it happen?"

Frowning, the brunette shook her head. "Quinn, there's no reason to torture yourself like this." The blonde cleared her throat and motioned for the girl to continue and Rachel hesitatingly complied. "Brittany and Santana had a huge falling out about seven years ago. Brittany actually ended up leaving to stay with a friend who used to live a few miles out from here. He's—well, he's dead now but—" Pausing to clear her throat, Rachel continued. "Uh-Santana drank almost non-stop the entire time Brittany was gone. One night, I joined in and we both ended up a little more intoxicated than we should have been and—things got out of hand. We both cried afterwards for nearly an hour. It wasn't right for either of us. Santana was guilt-ridden and confessed to Brittany the next day. They mended things between them within the week and Brittany moved back in and-well, I went back to being alone."

"I was with Sam." Quinn admitted, her hand creeping back to take Rachel's and pulling the brunette up to sit next to her. Moving a little so that she could rest her head on Rachel's lap, the blonde explained. "It started a year after I had been brought back to the camp. His siblings had just been killed because of the infection—we both had lost the people we loved." Shaking her head, the blonde shrugged and traced her fingers up Rachel's arm. "We tried to find consolation in each other. It wasn't—it wasn't anything like it was with you, Rachel. Nothing was ever like it was with you."

Rachel nodded in understanding, confliction clear on her face as she tried to remain open-minded and accepting about the situation. "Is that—I mean, are you still with him? Is that why you needed to go back to him?"

"Absolutely not. It was no more than two or three times. He wasn't you and I wasn't happy but…he's family, Rachel." Shaking her head vehemently, Quinn reached up to stroke Rachel's cheek, smiling at the way the brunette leaned into her touch. "After losing you and Beth the way that I did—I just can't afford to lose anyone else."

The two sat in silence for a few moments, hands intertwined. Sitting up straight, Rachel rubbed at her neck with her free hand, smiling apologetically at the blonde. "It's not comfortable sitting up if you're lying down." Moving to the opposite side of the bed, careful not to jostle the blonde, Rachel curled up next to Quinn. "How's the pain, now?"

Quinn opened her mouth to answer, a soft whine and a persistent scratching at the front door interrupting her. Propping her head up with her free hand, she smiled hopefully at Rachel, who simply rolled her eyes and went to let Atticus inside. The dog bounded inside the room only to hesitate at the edge of the bed, waiting to be called up.

Rachel entered the room soon after, resuming her spot next to Quinn. After a minute of silence, the brunette sat up and patted the spot next to her with an exaggerated sigh, muttering under her breath. "I suppose I should just get used to the dog hair everywhere." Atticus gently crawled onto the mattress, nudging Rachel's leg with his wet nose. Smothering a smile, Rachel reached out to scratch under his chin, giggling when Atticus crawled closer to her and sloppily licked at her hand.

Standing, Atticus stepped carefully over the brunette, hesitating at the girl's warning to be gently. Quinn waved away Rachel's worries, reaching out to pet the dog's head. Settling in between Rachel and Quinn, Atticus let out a content sigh, slipping into a sleep.

Rachel, raising an eyebrow at the openly offered affection, allowed a smile before turning her gaze to an amused blonde. Quinn wiggled her eyebrows, letting out a chuckle before wincing slightly and readjusting herself to get more comfortable. "You already love him, Rach. Just admit it."

Clicking her tongue in disagreement, the brunette narrowed her eyes at Quinn. "I actually don't, Quinn. I'm not one to fall prey to puppy dog eyes."

Quinn smirked at the brunette, turning slightly to wink in her direction. "My puppy dog eyes are what got this puppy inside and on this bed."

Rachel pursed her lips, shooting a warning glance at Quinn. "He is quite adorable, though. But I assure you, I don't _love_ him."

"You love me, though, right?" Quinn asked, surprising even herself with how small her voice was.

Rachel turned completely on her side, pressing Atticus's head down to place a lingering kiss on Quinn's cheek. "Yes. I love you." Settling back in her spot, the brunette's eyes fluttered closed. "Tell me about your life, Quinn."

Laughing softly, the blonde reached out to squeeze Rachel's hands. "That's a lot to ask for, Rachel. Could we start with something smaller?"

"Hmmm. Okay. Well, in that case, tell me about Atticus. He seems to have quite an attachment with you. He can't be a stray and all Santana said earlier was that you knew his owner." The brunette stated, adjusting the dog so that she could reach Quinn more easily.

"He belonged to a little girl I knew. She adored him, even before he was hers, and Atticus would have moved mountains for her." Quinn explained, smiling sadly at the sleeping dog next to her. "He saved Leah—"

"From the zombies?" Rachel interrupted, her forehead crumpled in worry. "He looks very tame."

"We did, too. He was shy, wary, and we never really thought anything of him. But you know? When an Infected went after her, it was like a switch went off in his head. He leapt clear over the fencing and just tore the Infected apart. Atticus wouldn't let him anywhere near her."

"Jeez…" Rachel breathed out, fear and disbelief clear on her features "Is she—Did she not make it?"

Inhaling sharply, Quinn looked away from Rachel. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and the blonde suddenly felt parched. The memory of finding Leah was vivid in her mind and she was reluctant to revisit the topic so soon. "Uh—no. When Santana and I went back to the camp, Atticus was just sort of guarding her."

"Was it an Infected?"

"No. I—I think she was shot." Quinn confessed, tears shining in her eyes. Looking down at Atticus, the blonde felt her heart ache at the loss that the animal had suffered. Guilt sat heavily on her shoulders despite Quinn knowing that there wasn't much she could have done to save anyone in the camp. "She was so young, Rachel."

The brunette inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly before turning to look at Quinn. "If anyone can fix this, it'll be you."

Quinn chuckled humorlessly, shaking her head. "No. At least, not anymore. I went back for Sam but I also went to find all of my notes for the past ten years. It's gone—it's all gone." The bitterness of having lost all of her research was all too fresh and Quinn felt the anger seeping into her veins. Reaching up with a free hand to scrub harshly at her face, the blonde exhaled sharply. "I just need to figure out how to move on."

Frowning, Rachel sat up, propping herself on one of her arms. Atticus lifted up his head to look disapprovingly at the brunette for jostling him, grunting as he moved to the edge of the bed and slumped back down. "Can't you start over? What was it that you needed?"

"We tested on sharks, which aren't exactly easy to find, and it took me almost one year to perfect that vaccine. The process isn't simple. I—I need an Infected and I need various medical kits to get the tools I'd need to even begin recreating that. Everything is packed away in a small duffle bag and someone took the time to tear through my tent and take it." Quinn explained, anger dripping from her tone.

"Quinn—" Rachel began, looking sympathetically at the blonde.

"No. There's really nothing I can do, not without putting you and everyone else in danger." Holding up a hand, Quinn interrupted Rachel. "You don't get how dangerous this was. We would infect wild animals, sharks. We'd reduce them to pure aggression and desire and then attempt to cure them without losing a limb. You have no idea how many people lost their lives during this, Rachel. How many sacrifices it took to get to the point that we were at. Ten years. Ten years, it took us to get so close and all of that hard work—it's all gone."

"Quinn—I'm sorry." Rachel started. At a loss of words, the brunette shrugged and lay back down. "I'm so sorry. But we'll figure this out. Maybe Sam—"

"Don't." Quinn whimpered, a hand reaching up to cover her eyes. "The—the entire camp was decimated. I know Wilson. He would have made certain that no one made it out of there."

"Quinn—" Rachel tried again, shooing away Atticus when he tried to snuggle in between the two girls. "How about we just lay here and rest? We'll wait for Santana to come home to fix you back up. Now, how's the—"

"The pain?" The blonde interrupted with a laugh, nodding. "I'm fine. You probably numbed my side for the next three days."

Smacking the girl playfully, Rachel snuggled closer into Quinn's side. A comfortable silence settled in the room and the shorter girl listened as the blonde's breathing began to even out. Nudging her shoulder, Rachel roused Quinn out of her drowsy state. "Quinn?"

"Hmmm?"

"I'm really glad you're back."

Opening her eyes, Quinn turned her face and smiled sleepily in Rachel's direction. "Me too. I—I know that we're going to be figuring this out for a while. But…what exactly are we?"

Forehead crumpling in thought, a smile blossomed on Rachel's face as she leaned in and pressed a kiss to Quinn's temple. "Well, I wouldn't be opposed to being your girlfriend again. Take it slow."

"Mmm. I'm guessing that means—"

"Yeah."

"I'm never going to get some, am I?" Quinn asked with a wince, pouting playfully at Rachel before letting a small smile pull at the corners of her mouth. "I'm more than okay with being your girlfriend."

"We still have a lot to talk about, Quinn." Rachel reminded the blonde gently, burying her head in the crook of the girl's neck and letting out a content sigh.

Quinn snorted in response, rolling her eyes before letting them flutter closed and muttering under her breath. "Like you'd let me forget, Berry."

"Shhh."

"Did you just—" Rachel interrupted the blonde, her hand shooting out to clumsily cover Quinn's mouth.

"Sleep."

Smothering a smile, Quinn breathed deeply, feeling the exhaustion creep back into her bones. Closing her eyes, she squeezed Rachel's hand once, almost as if to make sure the brunette was still there and began to drift off, sleepily mumbling. "Whatever you say, girlfriend."

**A/N:**** I am so thankful for every single one of you who has stuck it out this far. I've got the ending in sight and I've actually got big chunks of this part of the story written already. So hopefully, once this school thing is done, I'll be able to serve up quick updates. Please leave your thoughts. Also, from this point on, we're going to definitely see Faberry heavy chapters. Hope you enjoyed! -B**


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